


Fisheye Lens

by enpleurs



Series: walking through time [3]
Category: EXO (Band), VIXX
Genre: Casual Sex, Character Death (off screen), Death, M/M, Murder, Open Relationships, all 3 pairings are very present, but n/leo and leo/lay may be more present, it's rly just 56.5k of discourse on life living and friendship, minor warnings + notes in notes, my bad - Freeform, so this was supposed to be like...the murder half of a murder mystery, suicide (discussion of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:45:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 56,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8273395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enpleurs/pseuds/enpleurs
Summary: “You hand them the gun,” Taekwoon finally said. “I am the gun.”
“But you’re not the one who fires it,” Hongbin said.
It was long seconds after the door had clicked shut that Taekwoon turned to face it. “Does it make a difference?” he asked—but only he was there to hear it.
(Alternatively: the one where Taekwoon kills people, Hongbin is an accountant, Yixing is unsettled, and Hakyeon is a police officer and Taekwoon's childhood friend. They do walk into bars, but the joke is that the world is one fucked up place.) | Note: all 3 works in this series can be read separately as standalones, and were written as companion fics for infictions 2016.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Minor warnings: frequent use of smoking and alcohol, mentions of drugs, open relationships
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> Other notes: This fic is one of three fics written for Infictions and presents Taekwoon's perspective of the story. Hakyeon and Yoongi's sides of the same story can be found in part 1 and 2. This fic makes no claim to realism (read: energy was better directed towards writing over research ~20k in....for once in my life), and in particular, crime and crime statistics in Seoul. Please exercise suspension of disbelief where necessary.

  
The street outside was a quiet one, comfortable houses lining either side, a pleasant cafe mixed among them. It was still early in the day, despite the unusual bustle outside. The cafe itself carried the muted silence of a morning born past the early hours of the first cup of coffee, having yet to swell into its second rush, the place itself still comfortably empty. An older gentleman with his laptop out and a pad of paper beside him, a pair of young women seemingly catching a break on their way to university, and two men seated by the window. Every now and then, the occupants would all turn and peer outside to the other side of the street where yellow tape and emergency vehicles blocked off access to an otherwise utterly unremarkable house

The two young men were no exception.

“I don’t like it,” Taekwoon said, quiet enough that he wasn’t sure if it was for his own benefit or for Hongbin's. This was the first thing he’d said since they’d settled into these seats by the window; it gave them a clear line of view to the house across the street. Taekwoon caught the straw of his iced coffee between his teeth, the plastic already chewed ragged. It was his second of the morning—they’d been there since about an hour after the café had opened, and Taekwoon’d had a late night. 

Hongbin let out a long, drawn out breath through clenched teeth. “You’re saying this now?” 

Hongbin shook his head in disbelief and scribbled something nonsensical on the notes they were purportedly studying from. He’d even gone to the trouble of highlighting parts of it. He shot Taekwoon a snide look before directing his attention outwards as well.

Taekwoon pursed his lips. “I don’t like it,” he said again.

There was a flurry of activity outside as another car pulled up. An officer hurried out and past the police line, flashing his ID as he ducked through. It hadn't been too long since the whole fuss had started. Twenty, thirty minutes had passed at most, but a sizable crowd had already gathered, dissipated, and gathered again. This was a quiet neighbourhood—any commotion was enough to draw curiosity and this was a commotion of the most drastic kind. 

Taekwoon folded his arms over his chest and leant back in his seat, eyes turned towards Hongbin once again. He didn't like it. There was a lot he didn't like. It wasn't the death itself—people died, and that was that. But still, he didn't like it.

Feeling Taekwoon's eyes on him, Hongbin turned back as well. This time, the quirk of his lips took on a tinge of amusement.

"Shut up," Taekwoon muttered.

Hongbin let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head again.

"I didn't say anything," he said.

Hongbin, with his round glasses and neatly ironed button down looked every bit the part of a university student. A handsome one, at that. Taekwoon was dressed more simply, a short sleeve tossed over a pair of jeans, wallet in one pocket and phone in the other. Hongbin's bag was hooked over the back of his chair, and he turned to rummage through it while Taekwoon's eyes drifted outwards again.

"You're done with that right?" Hongbin asked. Taekwoon glanced at him. Hongbin gestured at Taekwoon’s long empty cup, then tilted his head towards the door. Taekwoon nodded. He pushed his chair back as he stood, then waited as Hongbin stuffed the notebooks into his bag. He tossed his empty cup into the trash as they pushed their way outside, greeted with the dry warmth of early summer.

They lingered by the door—or rather, Taekwoon lingered, back to the glass window of the cafe. Through the onlookers, Taekwoon could just see a distraught man speaking to the police; he’d been the one to discover the bodies. It'd gone almost too smoothly—Taekwoon had left the door unlocked, just the tiniest bit ajar, but he hadn't been sure if they'd even try the door let alone go inside. But he had, and he'd called the police and an ambulance. Those were gone now, carrying the bodies away for autopsies that would confirm they'd died of carbon monoxide poisoning, while the police continued to look for the source of the gas leak. Not that they would find one. They weren't supposed to. The only thing they'd find would be two bodies and the suspicious absence of the source.

The entire thing left him with a vague feeling of unease that Taekwoon couldn’t quite place. It sat somewhere in his stomach, prodding nervously at his chest. His brows furrowed, the feeling unfamiliar. That, Taekwoon didn’t like.

Hongbin tapped him on the shoulder and Taekwoon turned to him with a frown.

"Look, do what you want, but I'm heading home. Going to get some sleep. Get some work done. Feel free to join me when you get over your midlife crisis."

"Quarter life," Taekwoon said absentmindedly.

"Sure," Hongbin said, settling his bag a little more comfortably on his shoulder. "Assuming you don't get yourself arrested first."

Taekwoon shot Hongbin a steely look, but Hongbin returned it with a placid one and shrugged. With a wave over his shoulder, Hongbin disappeared down the street, leaving Taekwoon to frown at his retreating back.

People were slowly dispersing, curiosity sated, nothing more they could learn beyond what gossip would already have spread. That would be from the first batch, the ones who'd seen the ambulances arrive and leave. But there was little to see now, and people had their own lives to attend to. The crowd thinned, heads shaking, and for a moment, Taekwoon was struck at how surreal this all was, this scene that could have been out of a movie. But then again, Taekwoon had never stuck around for the aftermath before. He preferred to sleep.

Perhaps, he thought with a jolt, that would have been the wiser choice, as a man stepped aside and Taekwoon was greeted with the sight of a police officer wearing the face of a ghost from Taekwoon's past.

"Hakyeon," Taekwoon breathed. He took quick stock of the profile of his face, shed of baby fat, his still tanned skin, the earnest determination in his eyes. His breath caught in his throat, mind running through the implications. He turned sharply to stroll down the street, away from the direction Hongbin had taken.

Cha Hakyeon. The boy who'd abruptly disappeared from Taekwoon's life in the middle of high school and he’d never seen since.

His ears picked up the sound of quick steps behind him, and Taekwoon wondered belatedly if he could run.

"Taekwoon! Jung Taekwoon!"

If he had headphones he could've pretended he hadn't heard. But he didn't. So he took a deep breath, counted to three, and slowly turned.

"Hakyeon," he said. Surprise? Elation? He couldn't figure out what tone he should take, and it came out softly flat. His heart was pounding, and he couldn't help but wonder if that'd tinged his voice with a hint of trepidation.

But if it had, Hakyeon didn't seem to have noticed. Hakyeon. Police officer. Taekwoon glanced down at his badge. At a murder scene. Scene of an accident. Taekwoon blinked.

This...wasn't quite how he'd imagined they'd meet again. He hadn’t imagined they’d ever meet again.

"It _is_ you," Hakyeon said. He broke out in a grin and looked like he wanted to hug him. Taekwoon pre-emptively took a step back.

"It has been a while," Taekwoon agreed. This time, his words were nearly wary. Hakyeon, again, didn't seem to notice, only smiling wider. 

"How have you been? You never replied to my messages—ah, do you live around here? I guess you do, or you wouldn't be here." Hakyeon's words spilled out in a stream of chatter.

Taekwoon shook his head. "I..." He gestured lamely at the cafe. "I was passing by," he mumbled.

Hakyeon. Police officer. Crime scene.

He glanced at his watch, wondering if he could come up with an excuse to escape.

"Aren't you at work?" he finally settled for, before Hakyeon could ask more questions that Taekwoon couldn't answer.

It was as if a switch had been turned off. Hakyeon's expression suddenly turned drawn as he nodded, brows creasing, smile melting off his face, replaced with corners of his lips pulled tight.

"I should get back," Hakyeon said. He shot a glance over his shoulder, and when he looked back, he'd schooled his face into one of pleasant neutrality and had pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Here, how about you give me your number and I'll text you?" Hakyeon looked up at Taekwoon expectantly. 

Taekwoon hesitated, and then nodded. Hakyeon had grown up well. Handsome, strong features, strong eyes. Taekwoon remembered them idealistic—there was a touch of something more there, now. Tightness flashed across his chest—eyes, drawn, Hakyeon leaving, some ten years ago now, the heaviness of betrayal deep in his gut. Taekwoon shook it off, and held out his hand.

"I'll put it in," he said. Hakyeon handed it to him and Taekwoon tapped in his number. After a moment of hesitation, he entered his name as well, plain, without any of Hakyeon's usual embellishments that he remembered. Jung Taekwoon. He wondered if Hakyeon would change it. Hakyeon hummed as he took it back, and a few seconds later, Taekwoon's own phone buzzed in his pocket with a text.

"There," Hakyeon said. He glanced over his shoulder again, and his face once again took on that tight expression. Had something about the scene bothered him? There hadn't been any blood. Whatever it was, Hakyeon turned back to face Taekwoon, this time with a slight smile as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. 

"I'll text you later," he said. He nodded behind him. "I better go. Sometime later this week?"

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said.

He swallowed, and tried very hard to not look like he was fleeing as he walked away.

Behind him, Hakyeon's eyes were fixed on his back for a moment too long, but Taekwoon didn't notice. But then again, Taekwoon had always been one who'd seen too much of this world. He wasn't surprised that Taekwoon hadn't asked about what happened. A small smile twisted across his features as he watched Taekwoon disappear down the street. It seemed like Taekwoon hadn't changed at all.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

Taekwoon knocked, two sharp raps, before pushing through the unlocked door. There was no one in the spaciously empty living room but he wasn’t expecting there to be. He toed his shoes off in the entryway where they joined a mess of sneakers and high tops. 

“In here.” Wonsik’s voice drifted over from the kitchen, and Taekwoon padded over. He’d gone home, rolled on the floor with his cats for an hour and changed. Minseok hadn’t been around when he’d stopped by the coffee shop nearest his apartment for a latte so he hadn’t lingered, and he’d needed to see Wonsik at some point anyway.

A scrambled spread of electronics was laid out across the kitchen table, tiny metal pieces and green circuit boards mixed with spools of thin wires and tweezers and things that Taekwoon couldn't quite identify. Wonsik put down the soldering iron as Taekwoon walked in, switching the thing off.

"You're not working?" Taekwoon frowned down at him. Wonsik’s laptop was nowhere in sight.

"Taking a break," Wonsik chuckled, putting aside the tiny circuit board he'd been working on. "Hey, gotta take advantage of working from home every now and then."

This drew a small smile from Taekwoon. He fished something from his pocket and handed it to Wonsik. It resembled a small USB key, maybe flatter. Wonsik took it with a nod, his brows creasing lightly as he pocketed it.

"Thank you," Taekwoon said.

"Don't worry about it." He looked like he wanted to say more, the corners of his mouth pulled taut for a split second instead before the expression was replaced by a more customary smile.

"Did you just come by to drop this off?" Wonsik asked.

“Mm,” Taekwoon said. Something made him pause—the unease that had settled into him sometime in the early dawn hours. It had had a morning and half an afternoon to fester and now it prodded at him restlessly. It must have shown, because Wonsik quirked his head towards the living room as he stood, chair scraping back against the linoleum flooring. Taekwoon wasn’t too surprised that Wonsik had picked up on his mood or what Taekwoon had been thinking of saying, but it was still a mild jolt at how good Wonsik had gotten at picking up the nuances. 

“I could do with a break,” Wonsik said.

Taekwoon snorted. “You’re taking a break,” he pointed out.

Wonsik just shrugged, moving around the table and prodding Taekwoon out of the kitchen. Taekwoon swatted him away half-heartedly but moved to follow. Wonsik rolled his shoulders back, shaking out muscles stiff from hunching over the table.

“I don’t need a change,” Taekwoon said, answering Wonsik’s questioning glance. Wonsik nodded, heading straight for the living room and its cleared space. _They won’t wait for you to change,_ Taekwoon had explained simply, once. A look of discomfiture had flickered over Wonsik’s face, but they’d long ago agreed that there were some parts of Taekwoon’s life that would stay off limits.

It was, however, why Taekwoon stayed away from jeans too restricting, or shoes with not enough grip on the bottom. 

Wonsik was strong but Taekwoon was fast. Getting hit by him fucking _hurt_ , which was why Taekwoon made it a point not to. In return, Wonsik preferred to fight on the defensive, closing off openings, striking when Taekwoon let his guard down. Taekwoon was aggressive, not waiting for openings, preferring to attack, attack, attack and overwhelm, and there was nothing defensive about the way he fought. But this was a friendly spar that ended with them sprawled on the floor, two men in their twenty somethings, covered in sweat and with a few fresh bruises.

“Aw man, you really didn’t go easy today. How much coffee did you have?”

This drew a light puff of laughter from Taekwoon as he sat up, pushing his hair out of his face. “Not enough,” Taekwoon said, which wasn’t quite true.

Wonsik’s lips quirked in amusement as he took Taekwoon’s proffered hand and sat up as well. “Feel any better?” he asked.

A flash of a frown flitted across Taekwoon’s face before it settled into something more impassive. He tilted his head a little. Neither yes nor no. Taekwoon himself was not sure.

Wonsik shrugged, stripping off his shirt as he got to his feet. “I won’t ask,” he said, rubbing a little at the back of his neck, “but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Taekwoon couldn’t help but smile a little at that, more sardonic than anything, before it settled into something heavier. Instead, a slight grimace took its place, corners of his lips pulling outward.

“Something is bothering me,” he admitted. “But I don’t know what.”

Wonsik’s eyes were strangely sharp and soft at the same time in the way they often were. Taekwoon sometimes felt like an open book in front of Wonsik. Strangely enough, he didn’t mind. Wonsik was easy to talk to. Hongbin was not always easy to talk to.

“I could tell,” Wonsik said, smiling wryly. “At least the first part. Guess it’s not something you want to talk about with me, huh?”

Taekwoon was sticky with sweat as well, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he said.

Wonsik chuckled. He tossed his shirt into the laundry basket behind him and then walked into the kitchen, still shirtless. Taekwoon stood outside a little awkwardly, at least until Wonsik reemerged with two beers. He tossed one of them to Taekwoon. Taekwoon quirked an eyebrow as he caught it.

“It’s a bit early,” he said. He cracked it open anyway after a moment, the bottle cold and damp with condensation. He flopped back down onto the floor, crossing his legs in front of him.

“At least it’s not morning,” Wonsik said. He was still leaning against the wall. A long moment of silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t unduly uncomfortable. They’d first met years ago, a music thing—Wonsik had never pushed Taekwoon’s silences too far, and Taekwoon had grown comfortable with the other man. Somehow, it’d brought them to here. 

Wonsik was halfway through his bottle and Taekwoon about a third when Wonsik spoke again.

"It's just a feeling or something, right? I get that too, sometimes." Wonsik shrugged, the tattoo etched along his collarbone shifting with the movement.

Taekwoon frowned. He'd been trying to piece it together since this morning, since before this morning, since he'd gone home, changed, fed the cats, and paced restlessly for a good two hours before calling up a very irritated Hongbin. Hongbin had wordlessly joined him anyway, buying Taekwoon's story of curiosity. Or at least pretended to. It was true enough—Taekwoon had never seen the aftermath of a murder. And he wanted to make sure the police would come. And this time, the cafe made a good vantage point. Hongbin had the one to bring the cover story too, to give them a good excuse for why they might've been sitting there for hours. But, what was it that Hongbin had said? Taekwoon's frown deepened. _You're saying this now?_ Now what had that meant?

"Something happened today, and I don't like it," Taekwoon said slowly. He frowned again. "I did something today," he amended. The admission was harder than he would've liked, and he stared down at the condensation on the bottle.

That much was true. It had something to do with what he had done. 

"I'm not going to pretend I understand," Wonsik said, "but if you wanted to talk about it, I'd listen." Amusement twitched at his lips. They both knew Taekwoon rarely wanted to talk about anything.

Taekwoon sighed, and took another swallow.

"Why do you help me?" Taekwoon asked. He looked up at Wonsik, and his eyes were sharp. Wonsik met them, shifting only slightly under their interrogative glance.

"Because you're my friend," Wonsik answered easily.

Taekwoon froze at that. "You..." He paused, trying to put his thoughts into words. Wonsik's expression was casual, waiting. "You can't," Taekwoon finally said. It was woefully inadequate, but he felt like he needed to say something, an urge he rarely felt. We aren’t friends, he’d tried to say, but it didn’t come out the right way.

"I can't?" Wonsik's eyebrows rose.

"You don't know me," Taekwoon pointed out. Just like he made it a point of not knowing Wonsik, except for the barest minimum.

"Sure I do," Wonsik said. He shook his head slightly, once, when Taekwoon opened his mouth. "You've got a good voice, let me record the songs I write. You like coffee, and you like listening to music. That's enough for me. If a friend asks for help, I help them."

"Even if what I'm doing is wrong."

Taekwoon said this softly, without inflection, no more difference than any other inane statement. He could see the hesitation at that, the way Wonsik's body seemed to seize for a moment, like a car stuck in the wrong gear, but it slid away so smoothly that he didn't wonder if Wonsik simply had practice.

“If a friend asks for help, I help them,” Wonsik said. “That’s all there is to it.”

Taekwoon let out a breath of laughter. "And that's enough?"

"Sure," Wonsik said. A frown flitted across his features. "I try not to think about the particulars too much."

Taekwoon chuckled wryly. 

That was, Taekwoon supposed, how he worked too.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

"Don't smoke inside."

Taekwoon glanced over his shoulder at where Yixing was still half curled on the bed, blanket pulled barely up to his thighs. His hair was getting long, dark bangs falling just over his eyes, sweat-slick against his neck, the side of his face.

"Sorry," Taekwoon said sheepishly. He slid open the balcony door and stepped outside. A sudden cool summer breeze sent a shiver across his bare skin, still heated and flush. The concrete was hard and cold under his feet as he leaned against the railing, tapping away the ashes to fall through the air below. There was a rustle of fabric from the apartment behind him before Yixing emerged, a pair of sweats sitting low on his hips.

Taekwoon leaned over obligingly and touched the tip of his cigarette to the one in Yixing's mouth, letting out a quick breath of air. Yixing murmured a sound of thanks, taking a long drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke.

"Distracted?"

"Something like that," Taekwoon said.

"Need another distraction?" Yixing asked.

Taekwoon laughed drily, before taking in another long pull. He shot Yixing a sideways glance.

"Are you offering?" 

"Mmm," Yixing hummed, his hand already cupping the back of Taekwoon's neck. Taekwoon slid his free hand down the marred skin of Yixing's back, as Yixing's mouth pressed hot against his, tongue teasing against Taekwoon's lips. Breath hot with smoke passed between their lips. Taekwoon swallowed and let Yixing suck at his lip, tight and heated. He brought his hand up, tangled it in Yixing's hair, twisting just enough to draw a sound of annoyance, the sharpness of teeth, and Taekwoon's lips curled, kissing him roughly before drawing away.

He took another pull of his cigarette, tapping off the lingering ashes. He watched as Yixing did the same, the faint glow illuminating his lips wet and slightly swollen, fingers slender. Yixing glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a twist to his lips as he exhaled. The smirk melted into something softer, before Yixing turned back to the expanse of the city.

"You have doubts," Yixing finally said.

"What—" Taekwoon frowned, a little taken aback.

A soft laugh. "So I was right?"

The sigh that left Taekwoon's lips was too similar to defeat for comfort. He draped himself over the railing, the cigarette hanging loose enough between his fingers that it could've slipped out at any moment. His eyes closed for a brief moment. He didn't deny it.

"Me too," Yixing said after a moment. "You've seen enough, you want out, you want a normal life—but you can't."

"No," Taekwoon said. "That's not it." A pause. "I don't think there's an out."

This drew a laugh from the other man. His eyes too, closed. Unlike Taekwoon, they stayed close, as he drew another breath from his cigarette. 

"I guess it's me, then," he said, softly. "Who's seen enough."

For a moment, Taekwoon debated placing his hand on Yixing's back, on the scars there, a facsimile of comfort. He did not know how to offer comfort. Instead, he tapped at his cigarette, ashes falling away.

"I...am unsettled," Taekwoon said.

"Is that similar to doubt?" Yixing asked. His eyes were still closed.

"No, unsettled means—"

"I know what unsettled means," Yixing said, cutting him off. He let out a breath of laughter. "My Korean isn't _that_ bad. I grew up here too."

"Sorry," Taekwoon murmured softly in abashed apology. 

But perhaps he had doubts as well. 

Perhaps that had been what had shown.

Hongbin had called him earlier in the day, grouchy, telling him to get his ass into the office. Taekwoon had obliged, after reluctantly peeling himself away from his cats and dressing himself in something more presentable. There was an envelope sitting on the desk that Hongbin had nodded at. Taekwoon had taken it, a good guess as to what was inside. For a moment, his stomach had felt tight before he'd opened it, and something nearer to relief than anything replaced it when he did.

"I'm curious what happened," Hongbin had said. He'd glanced up at Taekwoon, his eyes sharp, a slight smile playing about his lips as if to soften them in counter. His arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned back in his chair, but Taekwoon caught a slight line of tension running through him with an overpracticed eye.

Taekwoon blinked. It took him a moment, several moments, before he asked: "what?"

Hongbin shook his head slightly, as if Taekwoon was stupid for not knowing. "The other day," he said, and Taekwoon gave up the pretense.

"What are you curious about?" Taekwoon asked. He turned to face Hongbin fully now, one hand still resting against the desk, envelope pressed beneath it.

"The blow by blow," Hongbin said, shrugging.

"You said you never want to know," Taekwoon said.

"Maybe," Hongbin said. "Because it's usually not hard to guess."

Taekwoon fell silent as he mulled over Hongbin's words. Hongbin had met him with little complaint that morning. The request had been unusual in itself. He'd wanted to be sure, Taekwoon had said. 

It was Taekwoon's turn to shrug. A slight motion, easy enough to miss. But then Hongbin's phone had rang. His face had flickered in annoyance as he scooped it up. Taekwoon couldn't help the quick twist of amusement on his own face.

"Maybe later," Taekwoon had said. He'd nodded at Hongbin, taken the envelope, and left him alone.

Yixing prodded him with his foot, his toes pressing against Taekwoon's ankle. Taekwoon blinked, and slid back to the present, the dim summer night replacing the memory of sharp flourescent lights.

"Unsettled," Taekwoon repeated.

"Then it's not the same?" Yixing asked.

"I don't know," Taekwoon said. Perhaps that was answer enough. That he could not deny it.

There was a long line of ash now that Taekwoon shook off before taking another drag. 

"'I don't know'—that's like doubt, isn't it," Yixing said. He sounded thoughtful, questioning. Perhaps this was Yixing unsure of meaning, unsure of definition, but he didn't say it, nor did he ask, and so, Taekwoon did not answer.

"I don't know," Taekwoon said again, and it drew a small laugh from Yixing, which brought a slight curl to Taekwoon's lips. 

"I'm unsettled, but I'm unsure if it's because of doubt," Taekwoon said. 

"That is unsettling," Yixing agreed.

"You have doubts?" Taekwoon asked, turning the question around.

Yixing's lips curled as he gave Taekwoon an unreadable glance, eyes quirking in the facsimile of a smile.

"I always have doubts," Yixing said. He tapped at his cigarette and nodded towards the city. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Not the same sort of doubts," Taekwoon said. "Your doubts are... different."

"Unsettling," Yixing said, smiling a little, a real smile.

Taekwoon nodded at that.

"You don't think there's an out?" Yixing asked, but it was not so much a question, as an indication. Yixing nodded, more to himself. "Perhaps." A pause, a breath, a cloud of smoke. "Perhaps not."

"Is that your doubt?"

Yixing shook his head. "But maybe that's why I'm unsettled." He shot Taekwoon a look, a smile that held a flash of teeth. "I wouldn't be the first."

Taekwoon nodded, although he didn't know what he was agreeing with. If there was a question he was agreeing with. 

"There's a right and a wrong," he said, finally. His cigarette was nearing its end.

"You mean wrong, and even more wrong."

Taekwoon laughed, a quiet sound with an echo that was swallowed by the night of the city. "Maybe. Is there a scale of wrong?"

"I know there's some things I won't touch."

"Me too," Taekwoon said. He caught Yixing's chin with his fingers, the cigarette falling from his other hand. There was a flash of surprise in Yixing's eyes, before he let Taekwoon pull him to him. The blunt sharpness of nails digging into his back, as Yixing kissed back idly.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

Summer slipped on, tumbling into the latter half of June in all its glory, sun and heat at all. Taekwoon forced the rush of adrenaline away, slowed breaths to match his slowing heartbeats as he walked into it. The late afternoon sun had yet to descend into evening and no one gave Taekwoon a second look as he rejoined the general populace, hands tucked into the pockets of his light jacket. 

There was no blood on his hands, not in the literal sense. Taekwoon had gotten far too good for that.

He didn't carry his phone on him, but, glancing at the sky, there was still plenty of time before he was supposed to meet Hakyeon. The irony did not escape him—meeting a cop for drinks hours after he'd killed a man. Taekwoon had been putting this off, but he supposed it was better to be done with before he met with Hakyeon, instead of after. As for putting off Hakyeon—that, he had not done. 

It was a good three quarters of an hour from here to his home; Taekwoon let his mind sink into its own thoughts as he walked, the afternoon sun prickling against his back. He'd visited the cafe from that other day yesterday morning. He'd opted for a latte this time, seating himself at the same table he'd taken with Hongbin. The police tape was long gone, and though he knew the house sat empty, there was no indication that its occupants were dead. 

It was almost strange how time swept such things away, how inconsequential such things were. He'd been set to give a speech, Taekwoon remembered, that man who he'd killed that day. His wife had died as well but that couldn't really have been helped. The speech had clearly been cancelled. But in the end, none of that mattered.

As for Hakyeon...

"I... wanted to tell you in person," Hakyeon had said, a much younger Hakyeon than the one who'd texted him the day before. "We're moving. My parents said they've been thinking about it for a while, and now that... well, that happened..."

Hakyeon texted a few times after he’d moved, but it'd been all too easy for Taekwoon to pretend he hadn't.

By the time he returned home, the sun was finally beginning to set. Taekwoon absentmindedly pushed his way into his apartment, kicking off his shoes in the entryway. A plaintive meow greeted him, followed by a striped gray cat emerging from around the corner. Taekwoon smiled as he crouched down.

"I'm home," he called. 

Leon meowed again as he wound his way to Taekwoon. Taekwoon stroked his fur, smiling as Leon flopped to the ground, rolling onto his back, paws curled to his chest as he let Taekwoon rub his stomach. Choco was sunning himself by the window as always, blinking at Taekwoon. Taekwoon patted Leon again, before he stood. Leon gave a pitiful meow, but ran to where Choco was, the black cat giving him a scornful look before he got to his feet and stretched, patiently waiting for Taekwoon to throw himself onto the floor next to Choco.

"You're so warm," he murmured, as he scratched Choco behind his ears. Choco purred, the sound vibrating through Taekwoon's hand. Leon looked like he wanted to butt in, but retreated at Choco's look. Taekwoon laughed as he rolled onto his side. Leon immediately curled up against Taekwoon's chest, while Choco butted Taekwoon's hand with his head, reminding him not to stop.

Taekwoon hugged Leon to him with one arm, absentmindedly petting Choco at the same time. After a minute or so, Choco pushed away Taekwoon's hand and wandered away to his water bowl. It seemed like Leon had already fallen asleep again, and Taekwoon let his own eyes close. Hakyeon had said eight. There was still time. He felt Choco return at some point, climbing on top of Taekwoon. His fur tickled against Taekwoon's face, and Taekwoon revelled in the warmth.

He dreamt.

They were young, much younger. Fifteen, maybe, fourteen. Taekwoon picked idly at a scab. Hakyeon was late. It didn't matter, not too much. He pulled his knees to his chest as he sat on the stairs, resting his chin on his knees. Music washed over him, his headphones over his ears, walkman tucked in his pocket. Afternoon drifted into evening, and eventually, Taekwoon stood, stretching stiff muscles. His shoulder twinged in ache, but he ignored it. 

Slowly, he made his way home. The streets seemed to stretch on forever. The sun set slowly, the sky tinged a dark orange, near pink. He tucked his hands into his pockets, a little hunched over, letting his steps drag. Without thinking, he turned into a side street, and abruptly, the stench of blood assaulted him.

Taekwoon reeled back, bile rising in his stomach. Blood. Too much blood. He gripped at the wall, brick digging sharp into his palms. An arm, bent at the wrong angle. Shirt, stained dark. Unwillingly, involuntarily, he walked forward, swallowing. He knew—he knew before he crouched down, before he turned over the body, from where it was slumped on its side, he knew what he would find.

The darkness woke him just before he could see Hakyeon's face, bloody, bruised, and definitely dead, but Taekwoon did not remember the dream. He woke with unease, a rise of sickness in his throat but without the memory. He rubbed at his eyes, sitting up. Leon had disappeared at some point, but he dislodged Choco's heavy weight before he thought to apologise. He winced a little as Choco's claws dug into his shoulder, the cat hissing in displeasure before he leapt off, probably to go snack. The room was dark, but not solid dark, and Taekwoon got blearily to his feet. He half stumbled to the kitchen where the time on the stove shone an insistent 7:03. The time pushed at the edge of his consciousness for several long seconds before he remembered he was supposed to meet Hakyeon at eight.

Hakyeon.

Taekwoon swallowed down apprehension as he moved to the washroom, quickly stripping off his clothes and tossing it into the laundry before stepping in the shower. The water that hit his skin was freezing, and he stood under the stream as he turned it as hot as it would go, until it scalded his skin. He let it run like that for a minute, the heat near painful, before he turned it down to a temperature more suited to human warmth. Marginally more awake, he washed quickly. The air was cold as he stepped out and he shivered lightly before wrapping himself in a towel. He couldn’t find the cats as he went through the motions of getting dressed, rubbing his hair dry, or as dry as it would go.

Hakyeon. Cop.

How long? A decade? Longer? Time passed quickly, but it had also been a lifetime ago. Sharp memories stood out, but the remainder of those years were a blur. Perhaps it was the same for Hakyeon. 

It was half past the hour by the time Taekwoon had dressed, opting for a simple white button down. He glanced at his watch—he had enough time. His phone and wallet were both tucked into his pockets, and he mournfully locked the door behind him, without finding either Leon or Choco to say goodbye to. But that was the nature of cats.

The streets weren't overly busy as Taekwoon walked to the train station. He checked the address on his phone again, just to make sure he was going the right way. He knew he was going the right way; he'd checked it constantly since Hakyeon had sent it to him. The train wasn't full, but Taekwoon stayed standing, leaning next to the door, fingers tapping restlessly at the pole. It was four stops away, and it was far closer to night by the time he exited. A flutter of apprehension rang through his chest as the place came into sight.

Cop. Hakyeon. Police.

For someone who'd spent his entire life avoiding the police... Taekwoon couldn't help the twist of a smile as he pushed through the door.

His eyes caught on Hakyeon already seated at the bar. A moment, and then another, and Taekwoon swallowed a breath and stepped forward.

"Hakyeon," he said. It was soft, too soft to be heard, and he cursed himself for not speaking louder, but then Hakyeon turned and for a moment, Taekwoon's breath caught in his throat, Hakyeon's face passive, startled—but then it broke into the brightest grin that Taekwoon remembered, and a beckoning wave that was just as familiar.

"You came!" Hakyeon exclaimed.

Taekwoon blinked. "Of course I came," he said. He smiled a little as he slid into the seat next to Hakyeon.

An awkward beat of silence, as Hakyeon seemed to hover, unsure. A shift of movement, and Taekwoon smiled to himself.

"How have you been?" Taekwoon asked.

Hakyeon was clearly caught off guard and Taekwoon couldn’t help but smile again. A second, and then Hakyeon shot Taekwoon a grin, laughing. "It really has been a while," Hakyeon said. He waved over the bartender before turning to stare happily at Taekwoon. Taekwoon squirmed a little under it, and he could feel a familiar flush creep up his neck. "It's been so long, I don't even know where to start!"

Taekwoon nodded, several small nods one after the other in quick agreement. The bartender pulled a beer for him, and Taekwoon tugged it in front of him with a word of thanks.

"So...you joined the police," Taekwoon said.

"Yup!" Hakyeon nodded, pleased. "I did it."

"I remember you said you wanted to," Taekwoon said.

"Oh, I'm surprised you'd remember something like that," Hakyeon said. Excitement seemed to be pouring out of him, his previous anxiety forgotten, or overwhelmed. It was strangely familiar, despite the years of distance. Especially the way Hakyeon was content to talk, and Taekwoon was equally content to listen. It was a litany of dates and times and places, as Hakyeon outlined where he'd moved, and where he'd gone to university, and where he'd been in the military, finally wrapping up with joining the police agency, and well, here he was now.

"I enlisted after high school," Taekwoon said about himself, when prodded. "And then I…" Taekwoon swallowed, shrugged. "Worked. Just boring things. Nothing exciting like you."

"What are you doing now?" Hakyeon wanted to know.

Taekwoon tensed, as he wracked his mind. "Coffee...coffee shop," he quickly said. He disguised his hesitation with a cough, and shook away Hakyeon's concern. He should've thought of something, beforehand. That had been a mistake. A big mistake. 

"Is it the one we met at the other day?" Hakyeon asked. Taekwoon shook his head no. "Oh, where is it? Tell me! Maybe I could come visit when you're working some day!"

"Don't want to," Taekwoon said. He swallowed, and shot Hakyeon a grumpy look. "You'd come bother me like you always did."

This drew a laugh from Hakyeon, and Taekwoon felt the tiniest guilt over the lie. A white lie, he supposed. The truth would be far too distressing.

The conversation tapered off after a fashion, and they sat side by side at the bar in comparative silence. Hakyeon's glass was empty, although Taekwoon still had about a quarter of his glass left.

"Do you want another?" Taekwoon asked. He gestured at Hakyeon's empty drink when Hakyeon looked at him questioningly.

"Oh! Hm, well, might as well," Hakyeon said. This time, it was Taekwoon who waved to the bartender.

"One more…" he trailed off, glancing at Hakyeon.

"What—you don't—" Hakyeon stammered a little, when he realised what Taekwoon meant.

"Just say what you want," Taekwoon said. 

"Gin and tonic," Hakyeon said, giving in.

Taekwoon nodded at the bartender in confirmation, before pausing. "Two," he said. The bartender nodded back, and went to make both their drinks.

"I feel like I should be buying you drinks, not the other way around," Hakyeon said softly.

"Why?" Taekwoon asked.

"Well, I mean…" Hakyeon shook his head and laughed a little. Taekwoon frowned, but didn't push it, downing his own beer instead.

The bartender came back with their drinks and took away Taekwoon's empty glass. There was a moment of silence as they both sipped at their drinks.

"I never thought we'd have a drink together like this," Hakyeon said.

"Why?"

"Well, I mean, after I moved... we kind of fell out of touch, didn't we?"

Taekwoon nodded. "You moved away," he said, as if that explained everything.

"Hey, that's what phones are for!"

"Huh?"

"I texted you," Hakyeon whined, "but you never replied."

Taekwoon blinked, then took a sip of his drink. "I don't remember that," he said.

"Well, maybe people say it's a small world, but I think this was more like fate?" Hakyeon said.

Well, Taekwoon thought drily, it was more like Hakyeon being assigned to a murder case that Taekwoon was the perpetrator of, but maybe that too could be called fate. So, Taekwoon nodded, then shook his head.

"I don't believe in fate," he said.

"You're no fun," Hakyeon laughed. "Still, I'm really happy."

"I…" Taekwoon paused. "Me too."

It wasn't...quite the truth, but it wasn't quite a lie. He wasn't...sure. Both answers tugged inside of him, but only one of them was an acceptable one, so that was the one he pushed forward. He picked up his glass between his hands, raising it to his mouth, preoccupying himself with it.

"Mm, it really has been a long time," Hakyeon said. "I still remember the first time I saw you, that ice cream stand, remember? What was it again…?"

"Chocolate," Taekwoon answered without thinking. Hakyeon blinked at him, and Taekwoon glanced down. "You got me chocolate ice cream," he mumbled.

"Right! You were trailing me like a puppy—"

"Was not."

"Hm, well, it was a long time ago, I guess I don't remember that clearly," Hakyeon said, clearly trying to appease Taekwoon and his abrupt death glare. Taekwoon relented, lips forming a small pout. 

"Now that I think about it," Hakyeon mused, "what _did_ we spend all our time doing?"

"You...talked a lot," Taekwoon said. "About a lot of things."

Hakyeon laughed at that. "I can't deny it. It was fun, though, wasn't it? I remember that. It feels like we had to worry about so much with school, but we didn't have anything to worry about either."

Taekwoon shifted uneasily, and Hakyeon hastily clamped his mouth shut. Discomfort flitted across Hakyeon's face, replaced with apology, replaced with unease and all its variants.

"It was fun," Taekwoon said, easing them through the abrupt silence.

"I wished we hadn't moved," Hakyeon said wistfully. "It really wasn't the same without you."

The sound of mixed conversations filled the space about Taekwoon, as he rolled Hakyeon's words through his mind.

"It was...different after you moved, too," Taekwoon settled for. He shook his head. He didn't want to dwell on those years, after Hakyeon had moved—it left too bitter a taste on his tongue, and no matter what had happened, there was no need to bring it up now, so many years later.

"They built an apartment over that park," Taekwoon said, casting for another subject.

"Which one? The one we met at?"

Taekwoon nodded. "We played there a lot," he said.

"Yeah," Hakyeon said, voice wistful. "We did."

They both sank into their own thoughts—Hakyeon to the days after, Taekwoon to the days before, each picking their most vivid memories. What Taekwoon remembered the most was Hakyeon's seemingly boundless cheerfulness, his determined energy, even through his whining, or through his exhaustion. He'd missed it. That wasn't a lie. There'd always been something infectious about Hakyeon's smile, and as annoying as he'd been at times, he'd also been a comfort. Even when he'd draped himself over Taekwoon's shoulders, even as he tugged the headphones from Taekwoon's ear to listen with him, even as he'd dragged him to places that Taekwoon never would've gone to himself. They'd eaten a lot, too. Snacks from the convenience store, from food stands, from cafes and restaurants and whatever by the road place had caught Taekwoon's latest interest. Hakyeon had complained he'd get fat, but he'd been as enthusiastic as Taekwoon about it. Hakyeon had also dragged him to get his hair cut, a few times. That had been...strange. But fun.

Hakyeon wasn't all wrong—it wasn't that there'd been nothing to worry about, but looking back, some of those worries seemed insignificant,in the face of the days those worries had been spread across.

A small smile had spread itself over Taekwoon's face, although he himself was not aware of it. A light pink also tinged his cheeks, a gift from the alcohol. Staring straight ahead as he was, Taekwoon didn't see the matching smile on Hakyeon's face, or immediately notice that the smile was directed towards him. As soon as he did, however, Taekwoon shifted, making a face.

"What?" he said.

"Nothing," Hakyeon replied quickly. "I'm just thinking about how handsome you grew up to be."

He said it with a teasing sing-song lilt, but Taekwoon's chest still gave a small jerk, even as his frown deepened. His cheeks grew pinker, but maybe, it was just from the alcohol. Hakyeon laughed at his face as he swirled his drink in one hand, the ice clinking against the glass walls. 

Taekwoon's drink was almost gone, and Hakyeon's was empty too. He glanced at his watch, and saw Hakyeon checking the time as well.

"It's getting late," Taekwoon said.

Hakyeon gave him a strange look. "It's not even ten," he said. "You're really getting old."

"You're older than me," Taekwoon complained. "Don't you have to get up in the morning for work too?"

"Yeah, well." Hakyeon shrugged, as if to say he'd be fine.

Taekwoon made a face but pulled out his wallet as he gestured to the bartender, ignoring Hakyeon's jibe over his age. Hakyeon really was older than him, even if only by a few months.

They stepped outside together into the warm summer night, pausing for a moment just outside the door. A different sort of darkness hit them as soon as they'd passed through the door, the silence of a city descending, muffling the muted din of alcohol fueled conversations.

"It'd be nice to do this again," Hakyeon said.

Taekwoon nodded. "It was nice," he said. But he hesitated, a barest pause. The summer breeze pushed aside the comfortable, safe haze that a bar offered, brushing aside the cloud to reveal the reminder of 'cop'. 

"Do you live nearby?" Hakyeon asked.

Taekwoon shook his head then gestured in the direction of the train station. "I'm going that way," he said.

"I'll walk with you for a bit," Hakyeon said.

"You live...close?" Taekwoon fumbled a little for the words he wanted.

"Kind of," Hakyeon said. "It's a nice night, so I might just walk, although I was thinking of calling a cab."

"I see," Taekwoon said. Hakyeon fell into step beside him as they strode down the sidewalk in measured steps, a bit slower than Taekwoon might've usually walked, perhaps because there was a sense of reluctance pulsing beside him.

They passed by a store, television screens on, facing the window. A familiar face was on one of the news stations giving a speech they couldn't hear—Taekwoon paused, frowned for a moment as he tried to place it.

"Jeon Seungho," he murmured to himself.

"Oh, are you interested in politics?" Hakyeon paused as well, following Taekwoon's gaze.

Taekwoon shook his head and started walking again. "He's on TV a lot," he said. Something niggled at him as they stopped for a light.

"Ah. Park Soohyun." Taekwoon said the name almost unconsciously. The name, typed, a photo, a sheet of information, instructions, all folded and placed meticulously in an envelope that had been deposited on his desk. He remembered, now.

"What?" Hakyeon was clearly surprised, and Taekwoon quickly shook his head. The light changed and he started walking, leaving Hakyeon a second behind as the other man frowned at him, before he realised that the light had changed.

"What about Park Soohyun?" Hakyeon prompted, once he'd caught up the three steps.

"He... I think it's why I remembered Jeon Seungho," Taekwoon said. He paused. "That was on the news."

It had been, he was sure of it. Jeon Seungho had given a heartfelt speech about the death of his political opponent. He could feel Hakyeon's gaze on him, but there was no way that Hakyeon could've known that Taekwoon knew whose deaths Hakyeon had been investigating that day so Taekwoon took no real note of it. Not that he would've, regardless, staring ahead as he was.

The train station was just ahead and he stopped. This time, Hakyeon stumbled a step forward before he too stopped.

"I'm that way," Taekwoon said. His lips quirked in amusement at Hakyeon's misstep, but didn't point it out.

Hakyeon made a face but graciously accepted the gesture. "Oh, well I guess this is good night!" he said. "I'll text you later—and you better text me back this time! If we fell out of touch again because of you ignoring my texts again, I really won't forgive you this time!"

Taekwoon snorted. "Okay," he said. He nodded once at Hakyeon then turned towards the train station.

Hakyeon. Cop.

As soon as he was on the train, Taekwoon let out a deep sigh.

He'd really thought he'd never see him again. Cha Hakyeon.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

"Hyung. Please. Stop."

Taekwoon caught the ball in his hand, Hongbin's eyes narrowed at him.

"I don't want to," Taekwoon said. Just to be difficult, he tossed the ball again, watching as it bounced against the floor, and then the wall, and then back into his hand. Hongbin made some sound that was a cross between a growl and a groan, as he angrily tapped at his keyboard harder than he needed to. Taekwoon didn't care. He knew Hongbin wasn't really working anyway.

The rubber was slightly sticky against his palm, and warm from how he'd cupped it in his hand. The light from the midafternoon sun filtered in through the closed blinds, smearing their sharp brightness into something duller and more diffuse. 

"You wanted to know," Taekwoon said.

The clatter of keys abruptly stopped, and Taekwoon could feel Hongbin's eyes on him.

"What?" Hongbin said, but the way he said it was too deliberate, and Taekwoon scoffed. He stared at Hongbin until it was Hongbin's turn to roll his eyes. "Fine. Yes, I wanted to know, now tell me."

Taekwoon turned in his chair, deliberate. Hongbin's eyes were still on him. 

"It was annoying," Taekwoon said. He pressed his lips together and leaned back, matching Hongbin's gaze. Hongbin made an impatient sound for him to get on with it.

He tossed the ball in his hand, catching it, tossing it, catching it. The translucent plastic seemed to give off a dull shine. Taekwoon shrugged. He let it fall onto the desk and watched as it bounced across the room towards Hongbin. 

"Air vents go two ways," Taekwoon said. Hongbin arched an eyebrow while Taekwoon paused. To his credit, he didn't say anything. Crouched behind the house, an hour into the new day, a rubber hose in one hand, a metal cylinder in his bag. "I put the tube into the vent, and covered the rest of the vent. I also covered the other vents. And then I opened the gas." Taekwoon shrugged again, a slight smile playing about his lips, but not one that held any mirth, only ironic amusement. "I didn't even have to disable an alarm, because they didn't have one."

"That's it?"

Taekwoon snorted. "That's it? What else would there be?"

Hongbin shrugged. "From the way you were going on about it, I would've thought you had to do something really big."

Taekwoon gave Hongbin a cold gaze which Hongbin met evenly. Most people had a tendency to jump or cower. Hongbin wasn't one of them.

"Save it, hyung," Hongbin said, corner of his lip twitching. The look he gave Taekwoon was decidedly unamused. "You know that won't work on me."

Taekwoon pressed his lips together, but Hongbin was going to budge about as much as he was. In the end, it was Taekwoon who heaved a sigh, sinking down a little in his chair. The ball was still about half a meter from Hongbin's foot, and did not roll back to him, no matter how hard he urged it with his mind.

"It's..." Taekwoon trailed off, frowning hard. "Guh."

"Impressively coherent," Hongbin said. Taekwoon glowered at him.

"Shut up," Taekwoon said.

"Then shut me up," Hongbin said, and there was no mistaking the smirk playing about his expression for anything but what it was. Taekwoon glanced at the closed door—he inclined his head ever so slightly as he stood and moved around the table.

"Bored?" Taekwoon asked.

"Hm," Hongbin hummed. He leaned back in his chair, arms over his chest, as Taekwoon loomed over his desk.

"I knew you weren't doing work," Taekwoon murmured.

"Doesn't make your damn ball any less annoying," Hongbin said, but Taekwoon had obligingly leaned over the table, Hongbin's shirt twisted in his fist, pulling the other man close. Hongbin let out a very undignified sound of surprise, muffled between their mouths. Taekwoon swallowed the sound.

"Shut up," Taekwoon said again, but this time, the words played hot against Hongbin's skin as he drew back just far enough to stare him down. Hongbin's eyes were in return a mix of mischievous and satisfied, and he grabbed at Taekwoon’s shirt. A growl low in his throat as Hongbin tugged, and Taekwoon braced himself on Hongbin's shoulder. He let go of Hongbin's shirt in favour of tangling Hongbin's hair between his fingers, tipping his head back and kissing him roughly.

Hongbin gave Taekwoon's shirt another sharp tug, and this time, Taekwoon pushed aside Hongbin’s things to move to Hongbin’s side of the desk. He shoved him back until his chair was against the wall, Taekwoon half on Hongbin's lap, knee digging against his thigh. Hongbin curled his fingers around the back of Taekwoon's neck as he ran his tongue against Taekwoon's lower lip. Taekwoon caught his tongue hot in his mouth, drawing a low moan from Hongbin as he sucked against it.

"Won't...ah—" Hongbin gasped as he pulled away for breath, but Taekwoon caught him in another kiss. Taekwoon felt more than saw Hongbin's twitch of annoyance as he shoved Taekwoon away, but he saw clear the smirk twisting Hongbin's lips. "Won't your Chinese boyfriend mind?"

"No," Taekwoon said simply, eyes narrowing. He shoved Hongbin, hard, Hongbin’s head hitting the wall with a little more force than necessary, and kissed him roughly, until Hongbin was shifting below him in arousal. Taekwoon drew back just enough to say: "he's not. If he was, I wouldn’t be doing this," before he caught Hongbin’s lip between his teeth and bit down. 

"Fuck you," Hongbin breathed. He pushed Taekwoon down by the back of his head to kiss him, his other hand trailing down to Taekwoon's stomach.

Taekwoon's breath hitched, and he shifted, just enough to grind his knee against Hongbin's crotch. He was rewarded with a low whimper that Taekwoon swallowed, letting his teeth scrape against Hongbin's tongue. In the next moment, a shiver of heat flooded up through Taekwoon's body, as Hongbin's fingers found the fasteners of Taekwoon's pants, and they were undone with deft practice. 

Hongbin's fingers were near cold as they pushed under the elastic of Taekwoon's underwear, and Taekwoon hissed at the contact as they crept down to his thighs, pressing against the skin there. Taekwoon let his teeth close around Hongbin's upper lip, tongue pressing it against the roof of his mouth. He couldn't help the moan as Hongbin's fingers played against his balls, thumb brushing against his quickly hardening dick.

Taekwoon pressed his knee against Hongbin's crotch, erection hard through his pants. He could feel Hongbin's chest heaving, faintly, through Hongbin's hand now curled around his cock, a quick squeeze of pressure that had Taekwoon bucking up into his touch. He pulled back a little, gasping a small moan, but Hongbin tugged him back down, and Taekwoon let him kiss him, his mind barely coherent. He had one hand gripping Hongbin's shoulder, and he pushed his other hand to palm at Hongbin's cock through his pants. He took the moment of distraction, Hongbin's gasp of surprise, to pull away from Hongbin's mouth, bending down to Hongbin's neck.

"Won't _your_ boyfriend care," Taekwoon breathed, mouthing at the crook of Hongbin's neck. His tongue flickered against his skin, and Hongbin moaned, arching up against Taekwoon's touch, even as he slid his hand up Taekwoon's dick.

"He—he doesn't care who I fuck," Hongbin managed. Taekwoon squeezed, and Hongbin's head fell back, neck bared to Taekwoon's mouth. "As long as I don't care who he fucks." His words were interspersed with scattered breaths and low sounds of pleasure.

"Besides," Hongbin said, free hand coming up to pull Taekwoon back from his shoulder, catching him again in a kiss. His lips curled, teeth closing around Taekwoon's lip. "We've been doing this too long to stop."

Hongbin's fingers tightened and with a few quick strokes, Taekwoon came into his hand, moan loud in Hongbin's mouth. Hongbin followed moments later, rutting against Taekwoon's touch. They rested sweaty for a few moments, Taekwoon's head pressed against the wall behind Hongbin before Hongbin shifted and Taekwoon pushed himself off Hongbin to sit on the edge of Hongbin's desk. Hongbin grabbed a handful of tissues before passing the box off to Taekwoon.

His mind swam through the post orgasm haze as he tucked himself back into his pants, grimacing at the stickiness there.

"Ah," he said, suddenly remembering. "And I left the door unlocked."

Hongbin's eyes stared at him as he leaned back against the wall, chest still faintly heaving. Hair stuck to his face, sweat slick, and a light flush remained on his cheeks. Several moments of confusion lingered, where Hongbin's eyes flickered to the door of the room, before there was a slight curl to his lips as he caught onto the thread of conversation.

"Left?" Hongbin's voice was still rough.

"I unlocked the door," Taekwoon corrected himself. "And then waited."

"Yes, I know," Hongbin said. He smiled wryly, pushing his hair back from his face, tugging his shirt down. "You made me wait with you."

Taekwoon made a sound of assent. His shirt stuck against his skin with sweat, and he plucked at it, making a slight face at the wrinkled mess. It was nothing new.

"Murder's bad," Taekwoon murmured, half under his breath. "Why?"

When he looked up, it was to Hongbin, wide eyed in judgment and disbelief. For half a beat, Taekwoon himself stopped. 

"Sorry, is this an actual question?" Hongbin said.

Taekwoon frowned to himself, then shrugged, perhaps at himself, the moment slight enough to be near missed. "Yes," he said.

Hongbin scoffed, leaning back, arms over his chest, an echo of an earlier moment. "Cain and Abel made that clear," he said. "It's illegal for a reason."

"What reason?"

Hongbin stared at him for several long seconds, and Taekwoon held the gaze, this time until Hongbin looked away. He held out his hand, as if to count them off, but slowly, the expression on his face changed from slight judgment to a hint of question behind the unimpressed facade. 

"I don't know about you, but I don't particularly like dying," Hongbin said, glancing back at him wryly. He rested his hands on his lap, staring up at Taekwoon. Taekwoon's brows drew tight, as he looked towards a blank spot on the wall.

"Neither do I," Taekwoon said. "But I don't like plenty of things."

"Dying is pretty high up on that list," Hongbin said.

"The worst?"

Hongbin shrugged. "Sure."

Taekwoon tapped at Hongbin's ankles with his foot, meeting his eyes. "What if I cut off your legs, is that better or worse."

"I..." Hongbin shook his head, speechless for a good several moments. "Dying's still worse."

"I don't think so," Taekwoon said. "I'd rather die."

"You're strange."

"But that means dying isn't the worst," he said. "Not for me."

"So? I think that's a pretty good reason for why _murder is bad_."

"But it's not the worst," Taekwoon pointed out.

Hongbin made a sound of frustration, kicking at Taekwoon's legs. Taekwoon grimaced, kicking back sharply, no doubt leaving a bruise on Hongbin's shin. Hongbin glowered up at Taekwoon and crossed his legs. A small curl of satisfaction decorated Taekwoon's mouth.

"It doesn't change the fact that people don't want to die," Hongbin muttered. 

"People don't want lots of things."

This time, Hongbin stood up, shooting Taekwoon a snide glance as he walked around his desk. Taekwoon hopped off as well, tucking his hands into his pockets as he watched him. 

"You're ridiculous," Hongbin said flatly.

"I'm curious," Taekwoon said.

"A _child_ could tell you murder is bad," Hongbin said.

Taekwoon shrugged. His eyes followed Hongbin around the room, as Hongbin bent down to scoop his bag from the floor. "I know, but I'm asking why."

Hongbin shut his mouth, stared at Taekwoon for a good five seconds, and shook his head again. But something seemed to seep out of him with a small sigh, a slim line of tension slipping away from his body.

"Because it is," Hongbin said softly. "I don't know what you want me to tell you, hyung."

"What if it's what they wanted, dying," Taekwoon said, then shook his head, a never mind sort of gesture that Hongbin understood for what it was. 

"I'm going home," Hongbin said. He slung his bag over his shoulder, then paused, halfway to the door. "Right—do you want a ride?"

Taekwoon shook his head. "The train is fine," he said. "I might go to—" He didn't finish that, but he didn't have to, judging from the slight smirk that slipped onto Hongbin's face.

"'He's not,'" Hongbin said mockingly. "Suit yourself."

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

A brief rustle of fabric, jeans pulled on, stepping through a balcony door already open.

“It’s too easy to lose yourself,” Yixing said. It was soft enough that had the other man not turned, offering Taekwoon a lopsided smile, he could’ve thought that the words hadn’t been meant for him.

Taekwoon stepped up beside him, shutting the door as he did so. He shook his head at the proffered pack of cigarettes, which Yixing pocketed again.

It was hot tonight. There was still a faint sheen of sweat against Yixing’s skin and Taekwoon traced his body to where his sweatpants sat low on his hips. The cigarette was already shortened by half, although the long column of ash at the end suggested it’d been sitting as was, resting, balanced between Yixing’s fingers, for some time. Catching his glance, Yixing smiled wryly and tapped at it. The ash fell away, clumped, before dispersing and disappearing into the night below. Yixing brought it to his lips, taking a deep drag, and Taekwoon watched as the glow briefly illuminated his face in its diffuse light. Under the half light, Yixing looked tired, even more tired than usual. Taekwoon wrapped his fingers around the railing and stared into the city.

It was quiet, in the way that nights were quiet, but loud in the way that cities, with its multitudes of people, were loud. The loudest sound was Yixing shuffling beside him, feet against the concrete, arms against the rail, hand against the back of his neck as he rubbed it unconscious in thought.

“There was someone,” Yixing started to say. His sentence dropped off, half way, words’ tone at a half breath, like someone had abruptly paused a recording. But it was no recording, and it was Yixing, shrugging.

“I guess I was thinking aloud,” Yixing said.

“Someone who lost himself?” Taekwoon asked.

“Something like that.” Yixing laughed, a harsh sound. They watched as the cigarette continued to burn itself out until Taekwoon reached over and took it from him. He could feel Yixing’s eyes on him as he took a drag. Yixing took it back wordlessly when Taekwoon held it out.

“Just for a bit,” Yixing said, and his voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper. “That’s what I told myself.”

Taekwoon nodded, once, enough of a motion that he knew Yixing would’ve caught it, not enough to disturb the calm. He wasn’t sure he understood, but he knew that he didn’t need to.

“How did you end up—” Yixing gestured around them, the motion traced out by a burr of light.

Taekwoon shrugged, plucking the cigarette from Yixing’s fingers again. There was the barest hint of Yixing as he breathed in the heat of poison, and it lingered as Taekwoon breathed out the cloud of smoke.

“Money,” he said eventually. His lips twisted involuntarily, remembering the flash of a child— _you’ll b’safe, you’d hafta b’real sick t’hurt a kid_ —erasing the draw of a young man, the error of returning to some place he never should’ve gone to in the first place. Taekwoon breathed a small noise that may have been laughter. “Nostalgia.”

“Nostalgia?” Yixing repeated the word, half in question, half in resignation.

Taekwoon nodded and then shrugged in response. Perhaps it wasn’t quite the right word, but it would have to do. It still drew a light chuckle from Yixing. Taekwoon held up Yixing’s cigarette to his lips, inhaling a deep breath, watching the glow that was inching closer to his fingers. A brush against his hand, so close to his face, and Taekwoon easily relinquished it back to Yixing.

“Just for a bit,” Yixing repeated. He stared down at the cigarette and for a moment it looked like he was going to drop it, allow it to tumble into the city below with all its faint spots of light. “Just for a bit, but I’m still here.”

“You’re afraid of losing yourself,” Taekwoon said softly.

“Maybe.”

“What would that mean?” 

Yixing shrugged, turning away from Taekwoon to grind out the cigarette in the make-shift ashtray he kept on the balcony. 

“Maybe he was like that from the start, but we never noticed,” Yixing murmured. “But I don’t think that’s true.”

Taekwoon nudged Yixing with his foot, and when he glanced over, Taekwoon held out his hand. Yixing smiled lightly as he took out the pack of cigarettes and tapped one out for Taekwoon to take.

“People change,” Yixing said. He lit Taekwoon’s cigarette for him and Taekwoon murmured a word of thanks.

“Like you?”

“Everyone changes,” Yixing said. The side of his face that Taekwoon could see was deep in shadow, but even so, there was the faint hint of a dimple. “I used to think that as long as we trusted each other, it would all be fine.”

“You lost him,” Taekwoon said.

“Did I?” Yixing glanced at him and his eyes were piercing. “No,” he said. “I don’t think I did. I think it was better this way. At least, not him. I… He changed, and it is better that we parted ways.”

Taekwoon murmured an assent, an acknowledgement. He lifted the cigarette to his lips and took in a deep, steadying breath. There was something hidden under those words, strained, and had these late night conversations between the two of them not become such a habit, he would never have noticed it in the slightest. But that was all he did—notice it.

“You’re not afraid?” Yixing asked.

Taekwoon frowned at him, unsure.

“Of losing yourself,” Yixing said. “Of forgetting who you were.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” Taekwoon said softly. But even he did not quite know which he meant.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

The place that Taekwoon had suggested, more a club than a bar, was enough on the affluent side that the lights were on just the right side of garish, the music loud enough to hide conversation without being overbearing, and the clientele skewing a tad older, broke college kids opting for the cheaper, sketchier places. Not that there was anything wrong with them—they just weren’t his taste. He doubted they were Hakyeon’s either. It had been Hongbin’s suggestion in truth, but Taekwoon had been surprised when Yixing had agreed it was a good place. He hadn’t specified if he’d meant for business or pleasure, and Taekwoon hadn’t pressed.

Hakyeon seemed a tad restless and had been all night. A rare moment of quiet had descended, and Taekwoon straightened then curled his fingers again around his whiskey sour. There was something contemplative, almost, in Hakyeon’s expression. A brief pang of something flashed through Taekwoon’s chest—had he been able to identify it, he might’ve labelled it as guilt, but as it was, he let it pass without notice. 

Had Taekwoon been watching more carefully, he would've noticed the glances passed over him when Taekwoon's eyes were elsewhere, and he would've noticed that the glances were accompanied not by a teasing smile, but by something weightier. He had not, and so, he did not, just as he took only minor note of the way Hakyeon seemed to be sitting closer, close enough that their elbows occasionally touched, that their knees occasionally knocked against each other. The bar was a tad crowded, and so that itself could also have been easily overlooked.

There'd been the space of more than a week since the last time they'd met, and the space of that week ought to have held something more from the reunion between two childhood friends. Perhaps, if Taekwoon had been someone else, Wonsik or Hongbin or maybe even Yixing, there would have been. But as it were, he was not, and he was content to let the conversation drift through mutual shared years, aimless, even as Hakyeon shifted, restless.

"I suddenly wondered if I wouldn't be here today, if it weren't for that day." Hakyeon's words were murmured softly, and Taekwoon shot him a look of alarm.

"What day?" Taekwoon asked warily.

"When I nearly went and got myself killed, trying to stop...help that man. But you had enough sense to drag us away," Hakyeon said. There was a wistful tone to those words, and his fingers wrapped themselves around the thin glass.

Taekwoon paused, closed his eyes, the memory flashing through his mind. Twelve, maybe. Summer. Taekwoon's corner of town, and it'd been Hakyeon who'd noticed them first. Guy who'd made himself too easy a target, looked a bit too rich, down between two buildings, being fleeced by a couple tough looking men, a common enough story. It wasn't, Taekwoon realised a few seconds later, when Hakyeon yelled down that laneway, common enough for Hakyeon. Taekwoon's lips twisted in misplaced mirth at that memory. What he remembered most was Hakyeon's hand, sweaty in his, as Taekwoon had pulled Hakyeon along with him, stumbling as Hakyeon, at first, resisted.

"You wanted to help," Taekwoon said.

Hakyeon laughed a little, and nodded. "Thinking back on it, it was a bit silly of me. But something you said, after…"

"'There's no point,'" Taekwoon echoed softly. He huffed, a quick breath.

"Maybe there was, maybe there wasn't. But I really did want to help. But you said, if even the police couldn't help…"

"They would have been too late," Taekwoon said. "That's what I meant."

"Hm."

"..."

"Oh, I don't think you're wrong! Obviously, by the time we'd found an adult who could tell the police where they'd been, it would have been over, and…" Hakyeon trailed off. And Taekwoon hadn't wanted to, Hakyeon didn't say. It didn't matter, now.

"But that's why you wanted to be a police officer?" Taekwoon prompted.

Hakyeon nodded. "Well, I guess it's better to say that's part of it," he said. "I haven't thought about it in a while, but I suddenly remembered again, seeing you. Hm, I guess I suddenly remembered a lot of things, seeing you again."

"Yeah," Taekwoon said.

"Funny how that works."

Taekwoon nodded for lack of anything better to say. He swirled his drink a little, watching the ice cubes, half melted, clicking against the glass and each other, the amber liquid of the whiskey splashing against the sides. 

This time, the brush of knee was a bit too lingering to be accidental.

“That time…” Hakyeon murmured. “In the stairwell, to the roof.” Hands on hips, the jut of bone, the heat of a mouth not his own. Far more enthusiasm than practice, far more fear and apprehension than comfort, but all it served was to leave a searing memory.

“I remember,” Taekwoon said quietly. He glanced at Hakyeon.

Hakyeon’s eyes pierced through him before they skittered away. “But then I moved,” he said.

“You moved,” Taekwoon agreed. Whereas Hakyeon’s words had been near wistful, Taekwoon couldn’t help the hint of accusation that seeped in, even though his voice was as always soft and light and for once, Taekwoon hoped that would be enough to disguise what had been utterly involuntary.

This time, when Hakyeon’s thigh pressed against his, it was Taekwoon who let his hand trail over Hakyeon’s knee, brush up against the inseam, fingers playing a skirting pattern against his jeans, before resting his palm on the top of Hakyeon’s leg.

This time, when he glanced at Hakyeon, he met his eyes full on, and there was no mistaking his intention.

It was enough.

Later, Taekwoon could blame it on the beer before he’d come and the second whiskey sour, and Hakyeon could blame it on the mojito, but right now, they were pressing themselves into a place dark enough and out of the way enough like they were young and horny and making up for lost time. Taekwoon held Hakyeon against the wall, letting one hand trail down his side, feeling Hakyeon’s heart beat through his shirt, the other resting against his shoulder. Hakyeon kissed him, messy, and he could taste the faint hint of mint on his tongue. Their teeth clashed, and Taekwoon pulled back, nose wrinkling at the motion. But in the next moment, Hakyeon had wrapped his arm around Taekwoon’s neck, and was pulling, pulling, pulling, and Taekwoon gave himself to the kiss entirely, wet and sloppy as it was.

It was new, everything about it. It’d been ten years now since they were two kids messing around, best friends, too much skin, too much touching, tentative, hesitant, awkward and halting. This was ten years later, two men who’d grown into their own skins, rutting up against each other, with just enough alcohol to take away the edge of inhibitions, but not so much as to send them spiralling into a sea of no control.

Hakyeon tasted _different_ and his mouth was unfamiliar, and the sounds that he made when Taekwoon sucked on his lip, and _oh_ his tongue, playing against Taekwoon’s. Messy, soft, gentle, and Taekwoon kissed him slow and deep, once the initial haste, the initial burst through the wall of hesitation, had fallen away. Hakyeon moaned, and his voice sounded so good, and Taekwoon couldn’t help his own small sounds of pleasure. They were pressed up hot against each other, and he could feel Hakyeon, hard against him. So fast, so quick, but with none of the roughness, none of the rawness that Taekwoon was used to. The curl of Hakyeon’s fingers against his neck, the lightest touch of pressure, the way he seemed to melt pliant, even as he lead them both.

It was Taekwoon who pulled away, looked down at a Hakyeon with cheeks flushed even in the dark, hair mussed, lips swollen and wet.

“I think…” he swallowed, voice rough, a little hoarse. A little out of breath. “I think we should go home.”

“Home?” Something passed through Hakyeon’s eyes, almost akin to worry, and Taekwoon shook his head.

“Not together,” he clarified. He should speak louder, but perhaps they were close enough—he hoped they were close enough—for Hakyeon to hear, and to hear clearly. “It’s...you’re busy.”

“Yes, I suppose I am,” Hakyeon said. There was a tinge of regret there that neither of them noticed, of reluctance, of resigned acceptance. That, and understanding. _Not so busy_ , seemed to be on the tip of Hakyeon’s tongue.

“I can take you home,” Taekwoon said. “I’ll call a cab.”

“I—you don’t need to.”

“I want to,” Taekwoon insisted. A small smile slipped out. “I need to get up early too.”

Hakyeon huffed. “I’m the cop,” he said. “I should make sure you get home safe.”

“All the more reason for you to get home safely,” Taekwoon said. He grabbed Hakyeon by the elbow and gently dragged him back to the room proper. His heart was racing, loud, and he could only hope that Hakyeon couldn’t hear it as he hailed a cab.

They were both overly aware of the space between them, and Taekwoon caught Hakyeon looking at him, a smile unconscious on Hakyeon's face. At one point, Hakyeon's hand drifted towards Taekwoon's knee, and while Taekwoon stiffened, he did not push him off.

Hakyeon didn't live far, a bare fifteen minutes drive away. Time both stretched on, seemingly endless, and ended, brutally abrupt.

"Well, this is me," Hakyeon said. He hesitated, hand on the door handle. "See you soon?"

Taekwoon nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Then, good night," Hakyeon said. He opened the door.

"Get home safely," Taekwoon said.

Hakyeon laughed, bright and clear, as he got out of the cab, and Taekwoon waited until he saw Hakyeon disappear inside, before he turned back towards the driver.

Taekwoon gave the driver his address, and then let his head hit the seat with a thud. Cha fucking Hakyeon. A mirthless smile twisted his lips as he casually rested his hands on his lap. He wondered if Hakyeon would still be as enthusiastic if he knew. This was so fucked up.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

June tripped into July, the days only getting hotter even as they got longer. Taekwoon’s life had again settled into its own strange rhythm, the only lingering reminder of the past month being Hakyeon’s number in his contacts. There’d been silence for a few days. But then Hakyeon had texted and Taekwoon, several hours of deja vue and hesitation later, had replied.

Hakyeon was busy, of course. Taekwoon hadn’t been able to quite suppress the smile at that—busy because of him. Life worked in such strange ways.

The night was still young but July meant that the hour was already late. Taekwoon found himself unlocking the door to the office just as Hongbin had locked up his computer, stretching his arms over his head.

“Hyung.” Hongbin blinked at him, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t be here?”

Hongbin shot him a snide look. “Don’t pretend that you’re ever here at night,” he said. Paused. “At least not by choice.”

“You?” Taekwoon said.

“Waiting,” Hongbin said.

“For?”

Hongbin nodded towards the window. “Night,” he said. “Couldn’t go out before then.”

Taekwoon raised his eyebrows and Hongbin flashed him a grin.

“Human by day, vampire by night,” Hongbin said, before it slipped into something with a bit less mischief. He pat his pocket, and Taekwoon belatedly realised that Hongbin was all done up, or perhaps it’d have been better to say that he was all dressed down.

“You’re going to the club,” Taekwoon said.

“Good guess, and you’re right,” Hongbin said. “What gave it away?”

Taekwoon tucked his hands into his own pockets, as he fixed Hongbin with a sharp stare. “Why are you going?”

“Why can’t I?” Hongbin said. He shrugged. This wasn’t the first time Taekwoon had asked, and each time, the answer took on a slightly different colour. This time, he grinned, a bit too much teeth in it. “What’s the point of doing something illegal if I don’t get to live a little. Can’t let you have all the fun.”

Taekwoon grit his teeth. “It’s dangerous. It’s unnecessary.”

“You’re one to talk about ‘dangerous’,” Hongbin said. His voice fell flat. “I saw you and your cop friend.”

His heart skipped, and Taekwoon stared at Hongbin, his brows drawing into a frown. “My cop friend?” His voice was softer than usual.

“More than friend?” Hongbin suggested. From the way his eyebrow quirked, Taekwoon felt a hint of something thread through his chest. “Looked like it to me.”

“We’re not friends,” Taekwoon said, an unwitting echo of a few weeks ago. “We...were friends. A long time ago.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” Hongbin said. His eyes were hard, and any trace of a smile, true or not, was gone. “It’s on your own head if you want to fuck a cop.”

Taekwoon was across the room in a flash—he froze, his hand mere centimeters from Hongbin’s neck. He swallowed, watching as fear flashed and then was forced from Hongbin’s eyes. Taekwoon took a step back, but they were still a bare arms length apart.

“We grew up together,” Taekwoon said. “That’s all you need to know.”

Hongbin had stepped back as well, and was near pressed up against his desk. He fiddled with his sleeve, a nervous gesture. “It’s still a bad idea,” he said.

“He won’t find out.”

Hongbin’s teeth caught unthinkingly at his lip, and there was a slight crease in his brows as he considered Taekwoon. “On your own head be it,” he said quietly. He straightened, circling past Taekwoon as he headed towards the door, a good distance from him.

“Hongbin.”

Hongbin paused, nearly at the door. “What is it?” he asked. When he turned, Taekwoon still had his back to him.

“Why do you do this?”

“It reminds me I’m alive—”

“No. Why do you...do something illegal.”

The question caught Hongbin off guard and he shrugged, even though Taekwoon couldn’t see it. After a moment, he shook his head, perhaps to himself, or at himself. “It’s a job,” he said. “I do it, and you give me money. Drugs, they’re not bad, as far as it goes. They don’t hurt anyone.”

“They do.”

“No,” Hongbin said mildly, in a tone that meant it was anything but. “People hurt themselves.”

Taekwoon said nothing for long moments, his hands sliding again into his pockets. His fingers brushed against something smooth and warmed from being pressed against his skin and he curled the lighter against his palm.

“You hand them the gun,” he finally said. “I am the gun.”

“But you’re not the one who fires it,” Hongbin said. His brows were still furrowed as he stared at Taekwoon’s back. Long seconds passed, silence falling over the sound of their breaths. There was no movement, Taekwoon might as well being a statue, a striking piece of art set in the center of their office. Hongbin let out a silent sigh before he turned again towards the door. “See you tomorrow, hyung.”

It was long seconds after the door had clicked shut that Taekwoon turned to face it.

“Does it make a difference?” he said, but of course, he was the only one there to hear it.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

It was surprisingly easy the second time, slipping away into dark corners, too much touch and not enough skin, almost the relief of an excuse well played. Still enough alcohol, the age favoured confidence booster, but the need for it fell away soon enough with the way Hakyeon’s hands roamed eagerly across Taekwoon’s body, with the way Taekwoon’s hands slid down to cup the curve of Hakyeon’s ass. 

"You're sure...this is okay?" Hakyeon pulled back far enough to ask, eyes angled in concern.

Taekwoon would've rolled his eyes had it done any good. Instead, he hooked his fingers firmly through Hakyeon's belt loops and pulled—Hakyeon let out a gasp as their crotches touched, the friction through their jeans electrifying against his tented erection. A shaky breath escaped Taekwoon as well as he pressed himself forward a little more, the pressure eliciting a drawn out moan from Hakyeon. Taekwoon caught the sound in a sloppy kiss, catching the corner of Hakyeon’s mouth. Hakyeon turned to match the kiss, rolling his hips in a way that rubbed their hardening erections against each other, the separating fabric only serving to heighten the touch.

“We...should go.” Taekwoon’s words played against Hakyeon’s mouth, between Taekwoon’s lips catching against his, Hakyeon’s tongue wet against his.

“Go?” Hakyeon asked. He seemed a little dazed as he pulled away, but Taekwoon couldn’t say he was thinking fully straight, either.

“Somewhere else,” he said, and Hakyeon’s mouth parted in a small o as he understood.

“You’re still closer,” Taekwoon said, and Hakyeon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Instead, he tugged Taekwoon towards the exit, moving quickly.

Taekwoon gave the address to the driver, Hakyeon shooting him a strange look that Taekwoon shrugged off, corner of his lips playing into something that might have been a smirk, or might have been simple amusement. They were both restless, shifting, even as they sat at opposite ends of the car, as if to sit closer would be to break back a wall of barely held restraint. Yet, Hakyeon let out a most undignified sound as Taekwoon reached across, brushing his hand across Hakyeon’s crotch.

“Everything okay?” the driver asked.

“He just dropped something,” Taekwoon said evenly. Hakyeon’s eyes were sharp on him, his chest heaving lightly. This time, the look Taekwoon gave Hakyeon couldn’t have been anything but smug.

When Hakyeon tried to do the same, though, Taekwoon was ready and quickly smacked his arm away. Hakyeon withdrew, skin stinging, shooting Taekwoon a wounded look.

Hakyeon lived on the second floor and he led Taekwoon in, almost shyly. Some time, some space, opening the room for doubt, the edge of alcohol softening. 

“Do you...want something to drink?” Hakyeon asked, ever the gracious host.

Taekwoon, however, couldn’t give a damn.

“Not what we came here for,” he breathed. He stepped forward, one hand on Hakyeon’s shoulder, the other against his slender waist, yanking him forward into a sloppy kiss, teeth clashing, too much tongue, an eager continuation of minutes earlier. A half second pause, before Hakyeon remembered to reciprocate, but he was no less enthusiastic. 

“Better,” Taekwoon murmured. 

Hakyeon’s response was to slip his fingers under the edge of Taekwoon’s shirt, a simple short sleeve, no buttons to be undone. Taekwoon let out a sharp breath into Hakyeon’s mouth as Hakyeon’s fingers traced along the waistband of Taekwoon’s pants, the touch cool. He kissed Hakyeon harder, sucking insistently against Hakyeon’s lower lip, until Hakyeon seemed to melt against him. 

Legs crossed, tangled, as Taekwoon ground against Hakyeon, as Hakyeon’s hips bucked up, crotch rubbing against Taekwoon’s thigh. They stumbled backwards, Hakyeon getting a little too enthusiastic grinding against Taekwoon, small noises of pleasure low in his throat. Taekwoon caught him—this time, his fingers slipped beneath the edge of Hakyeon’s jeans, down the small of his back. Hakyeon’s breath hitched and the motion reverberated in the non space between their mouths, against their tongues pushing messily against each other.

“Fuck,” Hakyeon breathed. He pulled away from Taekwoon, then pulled Taekwoon towards him, until they were moving, unsteadily, hands still roving, Taekwoon nosing at Hakyeon’s neck, through the doorway of Hakyeon’s bedroom. They tripped onto the bed, Hakyeon tugging him down as he sat heavily down on the edge.

Hakyeon froze, hesitated, his hands trailing against Taekwoon’s back. Taekwoon, straddling his lap, glanced up from where he’d been pressing kisses against the crook of Hakyeon’s neck. There was a look of hesitation on Hakyeon’s face, his lip caught briefly between his teeth, a strangely lost look.

Taekwoon made a noise of irritation and shoved Hakyeon down onto his back. Hakyeon breathed a small sound of surprise, even as his hands came up automatically to rest against Taekwoon’s back. Taekwoon kissed Hakyeon insistently, fingers fumbling with the buttons on Hakyeon’s shirt, and Hakyeon squirmed under him, quiet moans as Taekwoon pressed his leg against Hakyeon’s crotch. Taekwoon’s fingers were cool against Hakyeon’s chest, trailing down his stomach as Hakyeon’s shirt fell open. The sheets bunched up under Hakyeon’s back as Taekwoon guided him to shift upwards, until they were no longer hanging half off the edge.

Hakyeon’s ankles caught around Taekwoon’s calf, socked feet pressing against his other leg, urging Taekwoon closer. He bucked up against Taekwoon’s leg, hot and rough. His fingers reached for the fastener of Taekwoon’s jeans, brushing against his crotch, pants too tight. Taekwoon let out an involuntary moan, and Hakyeon leaned up to catch the sound in his mouth, kissing him urgently. His previous restraint had disappeared, and he bunched Taekwoon’s shirt in his hands, tugging him down until they were pressed against each other, Taekwoon’s arms caught between them. Taekwoon growled in irritation, pushing himself back up. He tugged Hakyeon’s pants down past the jut of his hips a little rougher than he needed, ignoring Hakyeon’s sharp whine of surprise.

It was quick, rushed, a fervent chase for release. Hakyeon was hard, as was Taekwoon, embarrassingly so, even before Taekwoon shifted down the bed, sucking a mark against Hakyeon’s thigh. Hakyeon’s fingers tangled in Taekwoon’s hair as he sucked Hakyeon off, a stuttered warning giving Taekwoon just enough time to pull back, before Hakyeon came, come splattering against his stomach. He was fucking beautiful, lips swollen, legs spread, bangs sweat slicked against his face. Muscles rippled under his skin, a tan contrast to Taekwoon’s, as his hips bucked upwards into his own touch. Taekwoon grabbed his own cock, full and swollen, and jerked himself off roughly, eyes hungrily taking in Hakyeon on his back in front of him. Heat exploded through his skin, and it was with no small effort that Taekwoon kept his eyes open, watching as Hakyeon’s fingers curled tight around his own dick, pumping himself through his orgasm. Taekwoon came over Hakyeon, his come landing part on Hakyeon’s dick, part on his stomach. A long, keening sigh was counterpart to Hakyeon’s own loud moans, as Taekwoon’s head arched back, still sitting up on his knees.

Taekwoon flopped onto the bed sideways just as Hakyeon let out a pleased puff of laughter. There was a content smile on Hakyeon’s face, and Taekwoon was feeling warm and sated.

“That...was good,” Hakyeon said. He scooched up so he could sit up a little to look at Taekwoon. Taekwoon nodded, half curled like a shrimp still. It had been, good. Different, but good.

Hakyeon laughed again, a small quiet sound. “It would’ve been nice to do that sooner. I almost feel like we need to make up for lost time,” he said. Taekwoon glanced up in question. Hakyeon shrugged. “It’s been a while.”

“...A month?” Taekwoon said, before he understood what Hakyeon meant.

A small smile twisted across Hakyeon’s features, perhaps in exasperation, before he sat up fully. He looked down at himself in disdain. “Ugh, I’m gross,” he said. “I’m going to clean up, are you…”

“Don’t want to move,” Taekwoon said. As if to demonstrate his point, he settled himself more comfortably in Hakyeon’s rumpled sheets. Hakyeon laughed, and it was a nice sound. The bed shifted as Hakyeon stood. Taekwoon watched as the other man retrieved his shirt, then bustled about to the closet for clean clothes, humming quietly to himself.

Taekwoon had half drifted off by the time Hakyeon threw himself onto the bed again, freshly showered.

“Here,” Hakyeon said. He held out a damp towel to Taekwoon, when he opened his eyes and blinked sleepily at Hakyeon.

Taekwoon took it, but most of the mess had ended up on Hakyeon anyway. Hakyeon, as if realising this, chuckled, then flopped down on the bed next to Taekwoon.

“It does feel like we’re making up for lost time,” Hakyeon said softly. “I...well, it almost feels like I’m a teenager again.”

“Are you saying it wasn’t good?” Taekwoon opened one eye to stare at him.

Hakyeon laughed at Taekwoon’s mock outrage. “How _could_ you,” he said in equally mock indignation, before it melted away into a more natural smile. “No, it was good. It just felt that way.”

Taekwoon nodded, relenting. Different, but good.

It made sense, a lot of sense. He was so _used_ to Hongbin and Yixing, and how could he not have been, when he’d been fucking Hongbin on and off for well over six years now, and him and Yixing fucking on a regular basis for the past two. Hakyeon... Hakyeon was new. It hadn’t been tender, or gentle, but it also hadn’t been _rough_ , not the way it tended to be, just because they could. Not to mention how embarrassingly fast they’d both come when it’d come down to it. Taekwoon smiled to himself. Getting off like that, yeah, like they were kids. But it hadn’t been a bad feeling. Different. Well, it made sense. Hakyeon and Yixing and Hongbin were all very different people.

“I wonder... Well! It would’ve been nice if we’d run into each other again sooner,” Hakyeon said. “I really do wish we could make up for time.”

“You moved away,” Taekwoon said. This time, there was no bitterness in the words, just the soft tone of fact.

“I know,” Hakyeon said. He sighed. “It’s not like it was my choice. I would’ve liked to stay.”

Taekwoon snorted, but shook his head when Hakyeon looked at him strangely. 

“What? I didn’t go up to my parents and say, I want to leave all my friends and school—never mind, let’s not talk about this now.”

“Was it really the reason?” Taekwoon asked. Hakyeon’s brows furrowed as he regarded him. “That kid.”

A moment of confusion, before Hakyeon’s face smoothed out in understanding then was replaced by a frown, this time of consternation. 

“Part of it,” he said. “Not all of it. But... I can understand my parents. That person...they’d died really horribly. A college student? Beaten to death like that? For no reason?” Hakyeon shivered.

“But that could’ve happened anywhere,” Taekwoon said. And you don’t know that, that there’d been no reason—Teaekwoon bit those words down. It had been a horrible death, but it wasn’t for Hakyeon to have known what the scene had looked like. There had been a lot of blood. “You know that...now? You’re a police officer.”

Hakyeon nodded, the motion a small one, his bangs falling across his eyes as he did. “That doesn’t mean it _should_ happen,” he said. His eyes were drawn. “But they just wanted to protect me. And it really was only part of the reason. Ah, well, it’s not like we can go back in time anyway.”

“No,” Taekwoon murmured in agreement.

He wasn’t sure what the time was, but it probably wasn’t too late. He sat up, shaking his head to get his hair out of his eyes and to clear his head a little. Hakyeon looked up at him.

“You’re not going to stay?” Hakyeon said.

“No,” Taekwoon said. He stood, doing up his pants and tugging his shirt down. He borrowed Hakyeon’s bathroom mirror to make sure he looked decent, running his fingers through his hair to comb it back down.

“Taekwoon.” Hakyeon was still lying on the bed when Taekwoon came out, but he sat up as Taekwoon walked closer. Taekwoon glanced at him in question. “Can we...do this again?”

Taekwoon nodded firmly.

A small smile broke across Hakyeon’s features.

“Then, see you soon?”

Taekwoon smiled as well. “Yeah,” he said.

He let Hakyeon see him out, especially since it was still pretty early. It was kind of far to his place from here, it was nice that the trains were still running.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

“Hello.”

Taekwoon glanced up at the voice, familiar and soft and with just the hint of an odd lilt that he associated more with the grey darkness of night than the morning sun, just outside of Taekwoon’s favourite cafe. Yixing stood there, one hand in his pocket, the other raised in greeting, a quiet smile on his face that left his cheek dimpled. He was wearing a deep cut short sleeve that dipped low against his chest, and a pair of beige shorts. His hair was pushed back from his forehead, and since the last time they’d met, Yixing had gotten his hair cut, the sides now shaved short. Even so, his entire aura was a soft one, his movements half a beat behind, his lips parted in his usual near pout.

“Good morning,” Taekwoon said. He fished the pack of cigarettes out of his pockets and offered it to Yixing. Yixing took one and stepped forward to stand next to Taekwoon, letting Taekwoon light the cigarette for him.

“Thank you,” Yixing said.

The two were enveloped by the pervasive smell of cigarette smoke, and for several moments, they let the sounds of the city reign. This was a small street with few pedestrians, but the signs of life travelled far beyond their immediate reach.

“Were you looking for me?” Taekwoon said after a few minutes. He glanced at Yixing beside him, who offered him a lopsided smile, eyes crinkled in genuine amusement.

“I was just passing by,” Yixing said. He tilted his head, lips forming a small pout of consideration. “It’s more like I was taking a walk, I guess. I wanted to go somewhere else for a bit.”

“But you don’t live near here.” Taekwoon frowned.

Yixing shrugged. “I know,” he said.

Taekwoon stared at him but figured he’d leave it be, and took a pull of his cigarette instead.

“The coffee here is good,” Taekwoon said.

“I don’t know much about coffee,” Yixing said, then laughed. “But you know that.”

“Instant coffee is _not_ coffee,” Taekwoon said shortly, and if it came out as a bit of a whine, it was because coffee was...coffee. He grimaced. “It’s poison.”

“It does its job,” Yixing said, shrugging. He exhaled a small cloud of smoke, his eyes following it as it dispersed into the air.

“What are you doing here?” Yixing asked.

“...Coffee.”

“Oh. Right.”

Taekwoon chuckled, and Yixing smiled sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“You’re almost always here, when I’m here,” Yixing mused.

“I like it,” Taekwoon said.

“Is it because it’s where we met?” Yixing teased, his eyes twinkling in mischief.

Taekwoon’s mouth twisted in amusement as he shook his head. It’d been two years since the other man had accidentally spilled hot cocoa on Taekwoon, bought him a drink after in apology, and then a few fucks later, admitted that he knew what Taekwoon did. Because—because, Yixing had quickly said, in the same slow paced tone, he was the same. It’d taken Taekwoon a good minute of shocked silence before he understood that he hadn’t meant _exactly_ the same. Just that neither of them had the sort of gainful employment that would look good on a resume. Or anywhere.

“Maybe I’ll meet someone attractive again,” Taekwoon said, tone carefully inflectionless, but he gave it away when he had to hide his laughter, chewing at the inside of his lip.

Yixing looked taken aback for a second before his eyes took on a wicked glint. “I’m attractive?”

Taekwoon snorted, not deigning that with a response. Instead, he flicked the ashes off his cigarette then stubbed it out. He could feel Yixing's eyes sharp on his movements.

"I've been wondering," Yixing said after several beats, a hitching pause between his words. "Was there someone you were seeing?"

Had Taekwoon been holding something, it would've been dropped. Had he been drinking something, it would have been choked on. As it was, he just turned his eyes on Yixing, blank.

"No," he said. Too much silence had passed, but it was the truth. A twist of his lips. "I never have."

Yixing nodded. Taekwoon watched him for several moments but it seemed like he’d sunk back into his thoughts, his eyes on just this side of blank. 

"What... Have you ever...been with someone?" Taekwoon asked.

"Hm? Like you?"

Taekwoon made a face, knowing that Yixing was teasing him even as a slight flush was creeping up the back of his neck because they were speaking of this in public.

"A relationship," he said more plainly this time. "Boyfriend. Girlfriend."

Yixing giggled, and then tilted his head in consideration. "Hm, well there was my classmate in elementary school, and I guess Yoora in middle school—I was very popular!"

"That's not what I meant," Taekwoon said flatly.

Yixing laughed again, but there was something in his eyes that his expression soon fell to, to match. This time, his smile was a little slighter, a little more wistful. "I... It wasn't quite, but... It was a close thing, I guess."

Yixing did not continue, and Taekwoon watched as he took a pull of the cigarette, and then another. 

"What happened?" 

Yixing shot Taekwoon a startled look, the brief flash of a deer before it disappeared.

"Don't worry, the two of you never overlapped." Yixing shrugged. "Not that we were ever together."

"We're not either," Taekwoon pointed out.

Yixing chuckled, stubbing out his cigarette as well. "Would've been news to me if we were," he said. He tilted his head towards the street. "Walk with me?"

“I left my things inside,” Taekwoon said and gestured towards the cafe behind them.

"I can wait," Yixing said.

Taekwoon shook his head. “You don’t need to.”

A look of something near hurt flashed over Yixing's face but Taekwoon, who had turned to look inside, missed it. By the time he'd turned back, the look had been replaced by that same lopsided smile, head tilted just a bit.

"Alright," Yixing said. He nodded. "See you soon, I guess. And thanks."

"It's fine," Taekwoon said. He frowned briefly. "Tomorrow?"

"My place? Sure."

Taekwoon nodded. Had Hakyeon said something about tonight? He'd have to check. Taekwoon waited the two beats while Yixing walked away, before he turned to go back inside, the cafe welcomingly cool.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

Taekwoon glanced up as Hongbin loomed over his desk. Maybe loomed wasn't quite the best word, because he mostly just...stood there.

"What?"

Hongbin shrugged. "Just seeing if you were free tonight."

Taekwoon's eyebrows shot up. "That was blunt," he said.

"I thought we'd moved past the roses and chocolate phase," Hongbin said.

"Chocolate?" Taekwoon perked up at that. "You never gave me chocolate."

Hongbin groaned, looking like he wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I've gotten you enough coffee to keep you from murder in a lifetime," Hongbin said. His words caught up to him a half second later, and he burst out laughing. "Or help you with murder," he said, smiling snidely.

Taekwoon snorted as well, leaning back in his chair. "You're safe," Taekwoon said. "I won't kill you anytime soon."

"Good," Hongbin said. He was around Taekwoon's desk in a split second, smile just the tiny bit feral. "You'd miss this too much."

Hongbin's teeth dug into Taekwoon's lip, and Taekwoon was taken too much by surprise to suppress the small moan as Hongbin continued to kiss him, tongue swiping over the same place he'd just bit, the spot tender.

It was long minutes before Hongbin pulled away, and there was a tell-tale bulge in his pants.

"So, are you free tonight?" Hongbin breathed.

Taekwoon was about to nod, but stopped himself just in time.

"I'm busy tonight."

Hongbin's face wrinkled in irritation. "Your Chinese boyfriend again?"

Taekwoon froze, and the look on his face must've been guilty enough. Matched with the lack of his usual quick denial or nonchalance, it gave him away.

Hongbin's look was one of pure disbelief. "Your cop buddy," he said. "Don't tell me _that's_ who you've been seeing all week."

"Not always," Taekwoon said guiltily, but that only drew Hongbin's expression towards one of greater judgment.

"Both of them?" Hongbin said. "At the same time?"

"Not at the same time," Taekwoon shot back, nose wrinkling. He glowered at him. "Don't take it out on me just because you're boyfriend's gone."

"He's on a business trip," Hongbin said. It was almost petulant. "Well. Whatever. Have fun."

"Fuck off."

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

They were sprawled on Hakyeon's couch, the television turned to some overblown drama. Hakyeon had apparently forgotten that this was the last episode of the season, and so even though Taekwoon had already come, they should just watch the episode together first! Given the other choice had involved turning around and trudging back home, Taekwoon had sighed heavily and joined Hakyeon on the couch, placated by a well piled plate of cookies. Hakyeon, Taekwoon was fairly sure, was crying. The fact brought a twist of amusement to Taekwoon's lips, but he just grabbed another cookie to nibble at. Hakyeon's feet pressed against his calves. 

"Is it done yet?" Taekwoon asked. It wasn't, and Hakyeon glared bloody murder at him in response. Taekwoon shrugged placidly. 

"You are a terrible person," Hakyeon murmured, but he turned back soon enough to the screen, leaving Taekwoon to prod at Hakyeon's leg with his toes until Hakyeon slapped him away in irritation.

The ending song had barely started playing when Taekwoon said: "it's done now." His smile was a little smug, even as Hakyeon's eyes were a tiny bit red as his head whipped around to glare at him.

"You're—"

Taekwoon rolled his eyes, and in the next moment, Hakyeon found himself on his back, Taekwoon looming over him.

"It's done," Taekwoon repeated. Hakyeon had his mouth open to retort, but Taekwoon crushed their mouths together. Hakyeon flailed, caught off guard, a whined protest muffled as Taekwoon's tongue shoved into his mouth, all force and no finesse. He'd spent long enough waiting. 

The television was still on, the drama over and some news segment on by the time Hakyeon sat up, straddling Taekwoon's stomach, from where they'd rolled off onto the floor. Hakyeon grinned at him smugly.

"Can't we turn off the TV," Taekwoon complained.

Hakyeon laughed, leaning down to place a light kiss against Taekwoon's lips. "Almost like someone's watching—ouch, it's a joke!"

"You have terrible jokes," Taekwoon grumbled. Hakyeon had pulled back, looking suitably chatised as he rubbed at his lip.

"You _bit_ me," Hakyeon said. "Hard!"

"Shut up and turn off the TV," Taekwoon said.

Hakyeon just laughed, rolling off of Taekwoon to reach for the remote. Blessed silence descended and Taekwoon groaned in relief. 

"You're right, it should've been something more classical," Hakyeon said, as he flopped back down next to Taekwoon. "A nice piano ballad."

"I hate you," Taekwoon said.

"Mmhmm." Hakyeon laughed, stretching onto his side. His lips were parted in an easy grin, his eyes carefree and laughing. "Oh, that reminds me that Jaehwan said that to me today! I think it's because I wouldn't help him cover for the toaster he broke, but just because I'm his friend doesn't mean I'm going to pretend he didn't break the toaster I use too." Hakyeon huffed indignantly, and Taekwoon had to work very hard to school his expression into one that wasn't laughter.

Taekwoon nodded. "That sounds very hard," he said.

"Ugh, you're making fun of me aren't you," Hakyeon said.

Taekwoon laughed a little at that. "They sound nice," Taekwoon said after a moment. "The people you work with."

"Mm? Jaehwan and Sanghyuk? Yeah, they're great people. I couldn’t ask for better people to work with. Everything you want in a teammate—brave, smart—well, usually. Loyal. Just... Well. Don't tell them I said that, or they'll get big heads!" Hakyeon laughed, but the schmoopy look on his face still stayed.

"Like you?" Taekwoon said.

Hakyeon flashed Taekwoon a dangerous smile. "Keep that up and you won't have a head," he said. "Besides, it's not called having a big head when I'm as great as I say I am."

Taekwoon snorted, rolling over onto his back. Hakyeon's ceiling wasn't very interesting to look at.

There was a sigh beside him, close enough to tickle the shell of his ear, brushed against the strands of hair that lay against his neck. The shuffling sound of fabric, and then the warmth of Hakyeon, drawing warmer.

"I really wish we hadn't moved," Hakyeon said. There was something wistful in those words. Taekwoon blinked, and then Hakyeon was there, leaning up, and then Hakyeon was there, his lips pressed against his, too soft and too tender.

Taekwoon felt Hakyeon's fingers brush against his arm, his hands calloused. Fuck it, Taekwoon thought savagely, and kissed him back.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

The door slammed in with such force that the walls nearly shook. There was a hiss inside the apartment as Leon leapt in surprise, darting under the bed to hide. Taekwoon stalked in, kicking off his shoes without bothering to untie the laces, the door slamming shut. His face was fixed in a terrifying mask of fury, eyes burning holes in whatever they looked at. Neither Choco or Leon could be seen at a glance—there wasn’t even a patch of sun, overcast as it was, for Choco to have been sunbathing in.

He took a deep breath and dragged a hand across his face. Near unconsciously, he moved around the kitchen island, dropping a small paper bag from his pocket onto it as he did so, its contents clattering. He stood at his counter for a moment, hand hovering, before he pulled out the pour over cone, setting it over a glass mug. The electric kettle was set to boil and he measured out coffee beans, pouring them into the grinder. The rough click crunching as the beans were ground between the burrs settled into an uneven, familiar rhythm that Taekwoon wrapped himself in, even as the smell of freshly ground coffee spilled into the air around him with every turn of the handle, a blend of earthy and nutty fragrance hinted in the overarching scent of comfort. The water was still boiling by the time all the beans sat at the bottom of the grinder and the paper filter had been set in the cone. His fingers tapped restlessly against the stone counter, his expression still tight with anger.

He turned, eyes flicking over the paper bag. His scowl, if possible, deepened. 

He’d known there was trouble when Hongbin had called, saying someone had been sent by the Director to inform Taekwoon he was to see him. The wording had been so convoluted and formal and repeated so precisely by Hongin that Taekwoon had felt his ire rising before he'd even hung up on the phone. Hongbin's soft "good luck," right before he'd hung up hadn't done anything to improve his mood either.

He'd only met the Director face to face before once. Director Jeon Seungjin, the man set to inherit Jeon Pharmaceuticals. Also, Taekwoon's employer. 

The kettle beeped, the water boiled. Taekwoon retrieved the long spouted kettle from the cupboard, rinsing out the kettle once with the hot water before filling it. He let his mind sink into the task of rinsing the filter and splashing the water into the sink. Tapping the ground coffee into the filter, levelling it out. It gave him a sense of ease—the near flat surface settled into the bottom of the cone. He picked up the kettle, carefully pouring just enough water into the center to allow the coffee to properly bloom. The aroma of brewing coffee blossomed through the apartment, and Taekwoon breathed it in deeply as he watched the water slowly drip through into the mug. It began to gather and pool, a deep amber as it flooded the bottom of the mug. Slowly, he began to pour the water in a careful spiral, keeping the stream steady and constant as he gauged the speed and flow by a practiced eye. The grounds rose with the water like small bubbles. The smell was almost heady now, and Taekwoon felt like he could live in it forever. He put the kettle down again, watching as the coffee brewed and collected in the mug, the colour slowly darkening.

It was overcast outside, the entire world gray, but the midafternoon sun was still bright enough to make itself known. Not in a warm way, not in golden patches on the floor, but in such a manner that the apartment was still well lit even through the blinds. Taekwoon glanced mournfully at his bedroom where he was sure they both were, even as he repeated the same spiral pattern again, as the grounds again rose with the water, and sank as the water drained. Just like it should. 

They were probably under the bed. Taekwoon froze at a sudden thought—he'd scared them, coming in the way he had, and he itched to go find them. But to leave the coffee brewed halfway only to return was no good either. He swallowed the itch and sank into the rich smell of coffee as he watched the water drain. Once more, and it was only habit that kept his pour steady but as soon as he was done, he put down the kettle and all but dashed off to the bedroom.

"Leon? Choco?"

They were nowhere to be seen as he'd expected, but when he laid down on his stomach to peer under the bed, there were two pairs of faintly glowing eyes. A smile nestled unwitting on his face.

"You're here," he said. He reached under the bed, but Choco growled lightly and placed his paw on Taekwoon's hand, claws just a little out. Taekwoon sadly withdrew his arm. "Play later?"

Two blank expressions greeted him. Taekwoon sighed as he got to his feet.

At least his coffee was done now, he thought with some consolation. He put the pour over cone aside for the moment, resting it in the sink. He'd wash it later. For the moment, he needed the smooth, dark taste of coffee, just the right side of bitter on his tongue. It was still hot and he sipped it carefully, savouring that first taste, with all the subtle notes hidden within. Taekwoon felt warmth suffuse him, and with it, the first true hint of calm.

Not that it was enough.

Taekwoon placed the mug down on the counter, waiting for it to cool. 

"What do you want me to do with this?" Taekwoon had asked. He’d gestured towards the paper bag on the table, and the small pill bottles inside.

"You need me to repeat it?" Jeon Seungjin asked, his voice disdainful. They'd been in his office, Taekwoon having been led there by Director Jeon’s assistant. It was what anyone might expect from an office, plush carpet, plush furniture, a large wooden desk, large computer monitors, classy artwork on the walls—it made Taekwoon feel very small and closed in. He hated it.

As it was, he fought to keep his face passive.

"No, I remember. Replace the pills, return a week later, plant the new pills, and push him down the stairs, and ensure he dies," Taekwoon said flatly. "I don't understand why it needs to be so complicated."

"No more complicated than is needed," Jeon Seungjin said. The look on his face could be one akin to a cat in cream, but that would've been an insult to cats. He leaned back in his plush chair, hands resting lightly on his lap. "Let me put this simply. My brother is not a stupid man—and neither are you, so I won't insult either of our intelligences and assume you have not gathered that much by this point in time. Were he to kill someone, he would, of course, not make it look like murder. 

“No, not when the death would serve him so well. So, what would he do, but pose it as an accident. I’m sure you know that… _officially_ , one of our main productions is Xyren. Among others. Now, these very pills originate from our factories, which my brother also has quite open access to. I’m sure you get the gist. Unfortunately for my brother, he might have gotten away with it had he not made the mistake of leaving his prints on the pill bottles."

"You have access to the pills too," Taekwoon said. He knew he was treading dangerous territory here, but something bubbled in his chest that threw half his caution to the winds.

Jeon Seungjin smirked, as if speaking to a particularly slow child. "But I have no reason to kill the man," he said. "Where is the motive? There is none. On the other hand, Seungho has all the motive. All this should be enough for the police to put together, but you know the police, never efficient, so I'll have another little something to help them along in a few months. My brother must let the trail cool for a while, let the suspicion on him die off, so a few months. As for the details... The time is not quite right for that."

"Why are you telling me this?" Taekwoon said.

"You did ask," Jeon Seungjin said.

"I could go to the police," Taekwoon said.

"And they would believe you? You, the man who murdered poor Park Soohyun-ssi and his wife?"

Taekwoon fought away the grimace, because the damn man was right. B-rate movie villain as he was be damned. "And what about him?" he asked.

"Who else would want him dead other than my dear brother?" Jeon Seungjin had chuckled then shrugged. "I never liked the man either."

The wall shuddered as his fist slammed into it. "Fucking ass," Taekwoon snarled. He glanced at his fist, and then punched the wall again—the mild sting only made him feel marginally better. He drew his fist back then paused. 

"Fuck," Taekwoon muttered. He let his head drop against the wall before he sank down into a crouch. 

He had enough to deal with—fixing a hole in the wall did not need to be added to that list.

It was the ring of his phone that brought him out of his daze. By the time he stood, his muscles were cramped and his coffee was cold. When he reached for his phone, thin trails of red traced down the back of his hand.

"You okay?" Hongbin's voice sounded in his ear as soon as Taekwoon picked up.

"What?"

"Ah—it's just that...you went to see Director Jeon," Hongbin said.

"I'm fine," Taekwoon said. 

"You don't sound fine," Hongbin pointed out softly.

Taekwoon held silent for several seconds before letting out a soft sigh. "I'm fine," he repeated.

There was a pause on Hongbin's end, before: "oh, I haven't seen your cats in a while! I bet they miss me."

It was so transparent that Taekwoon nearly laughed, and the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement regardless. "You want to come over?" he asked.

"Yeah," Hongbin said, and the relief in his voice was almost palpable. "Yeah, I'll be there soon, hyung."

 

Taekwoon was in the living room on his back when the door rang, Leon tucked against his side. He tilted his head back and thought about getting up, but Hongbin was the only other person who knew where he lived and he had his door code. Sure enough, there was no second ring, just the beep of the door being unlocked and pushed open. Taekwoon smiled wryly when he caught Choco walking out of the bedroom at the sound in curiosity—while he'd managed to coax Leon out from under the bed, Choco had stayed stubbornly put.

"Hyung."

The door closed, a few seconds as Hongbin removed his shoes, and then the sound of his footsteps until they paused uncertainly somewhere near Taekwoon's head. Hongbin loomed for a few moments before he sat. Choco always had liked Hongbin—the cat made a beeline for Hongbin's lap. Taekwoon couldn't even find it in himself to be annoyed.

The low rumble of purring filled the room and Taekwoon let his eyes fall shut. Leon was warm beside him as Taekwoon stroked his fur, the cat nuzzling a little at his side.

"I hate him." Taekwoon's voice slipped through the silence, parting it just enough so that when he repeated it: " _I hate him_ ," with enough venom in his words, that even Hongbin, who'd grown impervious to Taekwoon's intimidation, reeled back.

Hongbin swallowed. "Hyung," he said softly.

They stayed like that, the four of them, for what seemed like eternity. 

_You know things_ , Jeon Seungjin had said that time. _No, not that way. You have an intuition for things._

Taekwoon remembered staring at him, silent, still, and the Director—although he hadn’t been the Director at the time—had chuckled. He’d offered him a position—whether he wanted it or not.

_And if I don’t?_ Taekwoon had blurted out. It had been so uncharacteristic of him, perhaps that was why he still remembered it, remembered the way he’d so nearly slipped into casual speech.

_You know the answer to that._

_Fine_ , Taekwoon’d said, after a moment, because he rather preferred living. _But with one condition._

Taekwoon chuckled dryly at the memory. Young, stupid, filled with false bravery. Five years ago, now. The number was small, but it was a lifetime ago.

“I’m going to make dinner,” Taekwoon said. He sat up slowly before standing, movements stiff, muscles stretching as he got to his feet. Leon stood as well, back arching, mouth open in a yawn. Hongbin's eyes followed him as Taekwoon padded to the kitchen. He stopped, hand on the fridge door. He hadn't done groceries yet.

Hongbin had stood as well, and Taekwoon heard him walk up behind him, stopping maybe half a meter away.

"It's fine," Taekwoon said.

"Yeah."

"The coffee's cold."

"I can microwave it," Hongbin said and then laughed, because even with Taekwoon's back to him, the flare of anger at that suggestion was palpable. 

Hongbin let the sound die down before he closed the remaining step's worth of distance. Taekwoon stiffened, but remained in place. Hongbin pressed himself against Taekwoon's back, arm coming around him, hand sliding slowly down against Taekwoon’s chest, shirt warm between them. His fingers just brushed the top of Taekwoon’s jeans.

Taekwoon chuckled, the sound dry in his throat. "You said, that time...not everything needs to be solved with sex."

"Mmm," Hongbin agreed, mouthing against Taekwoon's skin. His tongue traced a pattern, hot, between his lips, and Taekwoon hitched against him. "But that doesn't mean it can't be."

Taekwoon's answer to that was to spin around, push Hongbin against the wall and pin him there. His eyes were a deep brown, and his mouth was slightly parted, inviting. Hakyeon flashed through his mind, briefly, the slight curl of his lips, the darker complexion of his skin, the sharp shape of his eyes. _One condition_ , Taekwoon had said. He tangled his fingers in Hongbin's hair, catching his lips between his, and kissed Hongbin like Hongbin was air.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

"Have you had dinner?"

Taekwoon nodded as he removed his shoes. Yixing's lips formed a small pout before he nodded as well.

"I'm going to make ramyun...well, all I have are some eggs...but..."

A small breath of laughter as Taekwoon followed Yixing to his kitchen. Outside, the sun was still up, mid summer as it was.

"I said I ate," Taekwoon said. He paused just outside the kitchen as Yixing busied himself with pots and water and the stove. There wasn't much Taekwoon could do to help with ramyun so he just kept out of the way, smiling as Yixing sang quietly to himself as he puttered.

There was the sound of water boiling and Yixing's voice. Taekwoon itched to join in, but the lyrics weren't Korean and he wasn't familiar with it. He contented himself with listening to Yixing as they both leaned against the wall.

It didn't take too long for the water to come to a boil, and Yixing turned to Taekwoon, smiling with the satisfaction of a job well done once he'd replaced the lid on the pot, noodles and all.

"You always want to eat," Yixing pointed out. Taekwoon couldn't deny that, and just nodded.

"Want something to drink?"

"Sure," Taekwoon said. He walked over as Yixing opened the fridge, taking the beer that was handed to him, the bottle cold and damp in his palm. Yixing turned to him, closing the door with one hand, looping the other behind Taekwoon's neck as he pulled him down to kiss him. His lips pulled insistently against Taekwoon's, and once Taekwoon had gotten over his surprise, he kissed him back, deep and urgent.

There was a faint dusting of colour on Yixing's cheeks when Yixing took a step back, and the kitchen was filled with the familiar smell of soup powder. The neck of the beer bottle had also warmed consistently, and there was a content curl to Yixing's lips as he turned back to the stove. Taekwoon leaned back against the wall, popping the lid of the beer off and dropping it into the garbage. The first sip was refreshingly cold and full, despite the warmth of the bottle neck. Yixing had rested his beer on the counter to turn off the stove, lifting the pot onto the counter.

"Second dinner's served." Yixing grinned at Taekwoon, holding out a pair of chopsticks.

"How do you know it's my second," Taekwoon grumbled. He set his beer down as well, while Yixing gestured at him to go ahead and eat.

"Third? Fourth?" Yixing teased.

"Seventh," Taekwoon said, laughing at Yixing's mock surprise. He bent over the pot, blowing on the noodles to cool them, before he swallowed the mouthful he'd caught in his chopsticks.

"I'm a good cook, right?" Yixing preened. Taekwoon snorted, kicking Yixing's leg, hands and mouth occupied as they were. Yixing stepped back with a yelp, pouting in hurt.

For some ten minutes, the only sound was that of noodles being slurped, of the splash of chopsticks in the soup, as the two of them took unconscious turns eating from the pot, bent a little awkwardly over it, sides pressed against the counter as they were. Taekwoon fished in the soup for whatever small pieces were remaining, before giving it up as a lost cause.

"Mine?" Yixing asked. Taekwoon nodded, relinquishing the pot for Yixing to tip the whole thing back, downing the remaining soup. He was always surprised that Yixing managed to without spilling any, but that probably came from practice. 

Taekwoon took a sip of his beer, feeling a different sort of warm along with that of hot soup. Yixing kept his apartment well air conditioned, but not so cold like grocery stores or shopping malls, and the warmth from the food was pleasant. So was the chill of cold beer, but that was always welcome. He stepped aside to let Yixing place the pot in the sink and set it to soak. Taekwoon followed when Yixing gestured towards the main living area.

There was a keyboard set up against one wall, the bed pushed against the opposite, the door to the bathroom next to it. There was a desk next to the keyboard as well, a small mess of cables, laptop, and monitor set on it. It was the keyboard to which Taekwoon moved, sitting down in front of it and setting his beer down next to him. Yixing had thrown himself gracelessly on the floor and now rolled back upright to watch Taekwoon.

"What'll you play?" he asked.

"I don't know," Taekwoon said. He ran his fingers over the familiar, plastic keys. They paused, slightly arched above them, before they fell into the opening strings of Moonlight Sonata, the music enveloping them both. He fumbled a little at the end, and he scowled at the keyboard as if it'd personally offended him. Yixing was rolling in silent laughter behind him, but Taekwoon ignored him in favour of finishing the piece.

"Here, like this," Yixing said, once he'd collected himself. He shuffled up next to Taekwoon, and pushed him aside so he could place his fingers where Taekwoon's had been.

 

A faint tinge of pink was sunk into a familiar grey sky, the two on the balcony, leaning against the railing.

"It's sunset," Taekwoon said.

"Mmm." 

"It's been a while, seeing this view."

"Has it? I don't remember. I don't think so?"

Taekwoon snorted. "You live here," he reminded him.

"Ah. That's true. I don't come out here very often at this time." Yixing inclined his head, a slight gesture, indicating the city below. "It's still very lively."

"It's summer."

"That's why it's hot," Yixing said, and there was a small whine in his voice.

Taekwoon laughed a little, shaking his head. "Because it's summer, there's a lot of people," he said. "Once it gets colder, people won't want to be outside so much."

"Ah, I've heard that there's more crime during the summer too—" Yixing stopped talking abruptly, blinking as the rest of his mind seemed to catch up. He laughed sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. "That's a strange thing to talk about, isn't it..."

"I didn't know that," Taekwoon murmured.

Yixing made a sound of assent, draping himself over the railing, his arms dangling as he stared out towards the colouring sky. "That's what I heard, at least," he said. 

Shadows lengthened behind them, the air stilling, until the darkness swallowed the shadows themselves. Only those faint in front of them remained, spilling off the edge of the concrete and into the void below, the apartment still dimly lit. It was a night where the oppressive heat of the day was tucked away in bits and pieces, the light breeze a quiet helper, the counterpoint to the constant chirp of cicadas. A pleasant night to take a walk, to stroll down the river, had they been so inclined. But they were not. They remained standing, in a manner of speaking for Yixing was near bent half over, as pink turned orange, and orange turned the hazy, mid light black that was characteristic of a city night.

"There's something on your mind." Yixing straightened, before resting his forearms on the railing. He glanced at Taekwoon, then smiled. "I waited until the sun set."

Taekwoon snorted in amusement. "Why?"

"Well that's because something like habit?" Yixing's face scrunched a little in thought, before he shrugged.

"No, I meant the first part," Taekwoon said.

"Ah." Yixing looked taken aback, before the surprise melted away and he turned back towards the city. "It's been a while since you were here early enough to see the sunset."

"...It's true."

“Of course it is,” Yixing said, smug.

Taekwoon sighed and leaned over the railing, mimicking Yixing’s earlier pose. He’d switched the man’s pills today, including the ones in the pill organiser he kept. Taekwoon had taken pictures for proof, but he’d also searched the name of the medication afterwards, when he’d tucked himself into a cafe to hide from the heat. Alprazolam. Benzodiazepine. Xyren. Anticonvolusants. Depakote. The words had made Taekwoon’s head spin, but he understood enough. Dizziness, sedation, drowsiness. And to miss the other would be Bad. Which was the point.

Taekwoon sighed again, and shot Yixing a half hearted smile.

“I was going to return something to an acquaintance, but I remembered I’ll need it again. So I came here instead.”

“You’re saying I’m second helpings?” Yixing teased.

Taekwoon flushed, shaking his head furiously. “No, I just...came early.”

“You were going to come anyway?” Yixing grinned at him.

Taekwoon waited a beat, thought of an unanswered text, then nodded. “I think so.”

“Something is on your mind,” Yixing said quietly. 

“That seems to be the case, lately,” Taekwoon said.

“You have seemed grumpier than usual.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Taekwoon grumbled and then sighed. “I’ve been thinking about things.”

“Me too,” Yixing said. “But I think they’re different things.”

“Probably,” Taekwoon said.

“What sort of things have you been thinking about?”

Taekwoon’s lips twisted into something between a smile and a grimace, although with the light at their back and face cast in shadow, it was an expression that Yixing did not see. Long heartbeats passed before Taekwoon managed to form the words into something more reasonable.

“What it would be like to kill someone,” Taekwoon said. It was half a question in tone, and half a statement, and he watched Yixing for the slightest movement. There was a half second where something akin to shock, perhaps even disgust, seemed to be palpable, before Yixing’s eyes clouded over, his mouth twitching in a contrary smile.

“That’s quite a thing to think about.” The syllables were quiet, deliberate, almost too well enunciated for all his usual lilting words.

Taekwoon nodded, unsure of what to say next. A question that he ought to have been able to answer, but had he been the one asked, he could have no more answered than the next. His hands itched for a cigarette even though he felt no craving for one, not at the moment. He curled his fingers tighter around the railing, gripping so hard that the edges dug into his palms before he straightened his fingers, then let them wrap around the metal once more.

“Have you?” The words were soft and fully formed, and there was a moment of trepidation as Taekwoon caught onto the ambiguity of the question. In truth, it was the near tangible flash of disbelief, the quirk of Yixing’s lips in a facsimile of amusement, the gaze that lingered on Taekwoon, sharp, for too long a heartbeat before it slid off like a snow drift crumbling off the edge of a roof.

“No,” Yixing answered eventually. He offered Taekwoon a small smile. “That’s what I should say, isn’t it?”

It was Taekwoon’s turn to frown in surprise, his mouth slightly open. Yixing laughed at his face, shrugging a little as he shook his head.

“I never have,” Yixing said. “...Killed someone. So I don’t know what it would be like.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Taekwoon said quietly.

“Yet you still asked.”

“It felt like I should,” Taekwoon said.

Yixing glanced at him. “What does that mean?”

Taekwoon shrugged, letting go of the railing, propping his elbows on it instead. It meant something.

“Have you?” Yixing said.

“Have I what?”

“Thought about killing someone.”

“That’s—that’s not what I said,” Taekwoon said. 

“I know, or I know what the answer would be, if I asked you the same thing, right?” The corner of Yixing’s mouth lifted in a smile, showing the smallest hint of a dimple.

“No.” The answer was immediate, without hesitation, and spoken softly. 

Yixing hummed then nodded, as if satisfied by his answer, graded against some unknown rubric.

“I’ve thought about it,” Yixing said abruptly. His eyes flickered to Taekwoon’s face, where they lingered. “I could do it. Maybe I wouldn’t even regret it. Is that bad of me?”

Taekwoon shook his head mutely as Yixing chuckled. The other man pushed his hair back, even though it was short now and there were no bangs to tumble down over his eyes. Perhaps it was simply habit.

A one shouldered shrug, a wry glance at Taekwoon, fingers that gripped the railing, much like Taekwoon’s had moments earlier. “It’s bad of me, but...humans are selfish.” Yixing’s words were much quieter this time, lighter, almost a mockery of Taekwoon’s own usual tone. Watching his profile, Taekwoon could see the minute motions of his face, the twitch in his cheek, the slight shake of his head.

“All we want is to live,” Yixing continued. “But we have to live with ourselves. I don’t know if I could live with myself, after—but... I could do it, I think.” This time, when he looked at Taekwoon, his gaze was utterly cool. “I never have, but I could. Maybe not regret it, even if I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. It’s strange, right?”

Taekwoon nodded, as if in agreement.

“It’s not fun to talk about such gloomy things. I shouldn’t have said that.” Yixing shook his head, then tugged at Taekwoon’s arm to go inside.

“Ok,” Taekwoon agreed, breathing out a laugh.

Taekwoon had barely drawn the blinds shut behind them before Yixing tripped Taekwoon and pushed him back onto the bed. Taekwoon’s back hit the mattress, and a surprised rush of air left his lungs. A slight laugh puffed between Yixing’s lips, but it was swallowed soon enough as Taekwoon tangled his fingers in Yixing’s hair and yanked him down, mouths clashing messily, sloppily. 

Yixing pushed him away, breathing heavily, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Yixing asked.

Taekwoon squinted at him. “That’s what we’re doing?”

“No,” Yixing said, shaking his head. “I meant fuck me properly.”

This time, Taekwoon just stared at Yixing. Really hard.

“Um,” he said. It came out as more of a squeak. He was turning red, he could feel it. Feel the flush creeping up the back of his neck, for more reasons than one.

“Do you want to fuck me properly?” Yixing asked again, slowly, as if maybe Taekwoon hadn’t heard properly the first time. His tone was guileless but the look in his eyes, the way his hand trailed just a little too close against the inside of his thigh—there was nothing he could mistake it for but what Yixing meant.

Taekwoon was torn between burying his face in his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose and being very, very turned on. His body, evidently, had already decided on the latter. He nodded. His ears, he was sure, were still red, and he knew there was no way Yixing could’ve missed it.

Yixing made a pleased sound low in his throat. He shifted so he was straddling Taekwoon, one arm draped over his shoulder as he kissed him slowly. Taekwoon’s hands came up automatically to rest against Yixing’s back. 

“I like you,” Yixing said plainly as he pulled back. Taekwoon began to sputter, but Yixing placed another quick kiss against his lips before drawing back, a pleased smile curled on his lips. He tilted his head, as if considering Taekwoon, before he smiled again. “Cute.”

Taekwoon swallowed, unsure if the heat spreading through his skin was because of the way Yixing had nudged a knee between Taekwoon’s thighs, or because of something else entirely, but he wasn’t going to think too much about it when Yixing pushed him back onto the bed, fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed him again, slow and sweet and just a little bit of tongue. Small sounds slipped from Taekwoon’s mouth into Yixing’s and Yixing rewarded him for it, kissing him a little deeper, thumb brushing against Taekwoon’s jaw, just a bit too tender.

He blinked, a little at a loss, when Yixing sat up and while the echo of a smile was still there, paired with the smoulder in his eyes, the playfulness projected as something far less innocent.

“Hang on,” Yixing said, and then he was clambering off Taekwoon, his weight abruptly disappearing. Taekwoon watched as Yixing headed for his dresser, opening one of the drawers and digging under socks before pulling out a small package that he tossed to Taekwoon, and a bottle that he kept to himself as he moved back to the bed.

“You should take off your clothes.” Yixing’s voice, matter of fact as it was, was muffled as he stripped off his own shirt.

Taekwoon was still half mired in a fog of arousal and he took a second longer, watching Yixing’s muscles ripple under his skin, before he too unbuttoned his shirt and kicked off his jeans onto the floor. Yixing’s fingers were pretty and deft as they unbuttoned his jeans and Taekwoon could easily admit he was staring, admiring, as Yixing stripped naked, his eyes running appreciatively over his skin, his body firm, the subtle definition of muscle, his nipples hard, his cock hard and erect, and fuck, he was hot.

Yixing caught him looking and the corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk. “Your underwear?” he said, nodding towards Taekwoon, and Taekwoon froze for a brief second, before he remembered that yes, he hadn’t quite finished undressing.

“You can take it off yourself,” Yixing said, half a question. Taekwoon didn’t bother replying to that, because Yixing wasted no time coating his fingers in lube, reaching behind himself as he got onto his knees, his eyes never once leaving Taekwoon.

“Ah,” Taekwoon said.

“Underwear,” Yixing reminded him, and this time, his voice was dark and soft and hitched as his eyes briefly closed.

“Haven’t done this in a while,” Taekwoon murmured as he obediently stripped off the last piece of clothing.

“Mmm,” Yixing hummed. “So make it good.”

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said. He hungrily ate in the slight flush of Yixing’s cheeks with his eyes, the tip of his cock wet with precome. Yixing’s lips were shiny and swollen and Taekwoon wrapped a hand around his own cock, moaning involuntarily at the touch.

“Looking forward to it?” Yixing’s voice was rough, and from the way it was strained, he guessed that Yixing had pushed another finger into himself.

“Need help?” Taekwoon asked instead of answering.

“Are you offering?”

Taekwoon let out a little huff of laughter as he crawled over. He took the bottle of lube from Yixing, breath hitching as he squeezed it cold over his fingers. Yixing was watching him, eyes dark, and his teeth closed just over his lower lip, his gaze holding Taekwoon’s. A pulse of heat hit Taekwoon and he swallowed, his skin fairly thrumming as he shifted even closer until they were near pressed up against each other, Taekwoon between Yixing’s spread thighs, reaching behind Yixing from the other side.

“Okay?” he murmured. His hand nudged against Yixing’s.

“Don’t be so polite,” Yixing said. Taekwoon scoffed, and slowly slid a finger in next to Yixing’s two. Yixing clenched around them both hot and tight.

“Ahh—” Yixing breathed out, half whine, half moan, and his other hand found Taekwoon’s thigh, fingers digging in as he pressed his head against Taekwoon’s shoulder. Taekwoon crooked his finger inside of Yixing and he felt Yixing stiffen, freeze, momentarily before Yixing began to work his own fingers inside of himself again.

“You surprised me,” Taekwoon murmured. “I forgot you can be so...direct.”

“Says you.” The words played against the bare skin of Taekwoon’s shoulder. Taekwoon cupped the slight curve of Yixing’s ass in his palm as Yixing made small sounds that sank into Taekwoon’s skin with every tiny movement. Taekwoon pressed his finger against Yixing’s walls, Yixing’s breath hitching, Taekwoon murmuring approval. 

Yixing gradually relaxed against him, loosening as his breathing grew harsher. “Alright,” he said. “I’m good.”

Taekwoon removed his fingers first, leaving a wet, sticky trail against Yixing’s ass as he did. It drew a soft sound out of Yixing, half whine, half sigh. Yixing nudged Taekwoon forward so that he had enough room to lie down on the bed without falling off, and Taekwoon shifted back obligingly. The condom was still somewhere on the bed—Yixing’s eyes were hungry on him as Taekwoon rolled it onto his cock, now full and swollen. Taekwoon’s lips curled as he met his eyes.

“Hurry up and fuck me,” Yixing said. Taekwoon made a face, but he was in no mood to linger either.

“You look good,” Taekwoon murmured appreciatively. And he did—well muscled torso, firm, a sheen of sweat adding to the image. His cock curved up against his stomach, his legs spread, lips swollen. Taekwoon swallowed.

He eased into Yixing slowly, moaning as heat clenched tight around his cock. Yixing let out a slow breath of a whine as Taekwoon thrust all the way in. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth.

“Fuck me,” Yixing said. His voice, low, sent heat flaring at the base of Taekwoon’s stomach. Taekwoon swallowed—but fuck if he didn’t want to have Yixing writhing under him. He set up a relentless pace, thrusting into Yixing almost erratically. Yixing’s fingers dug into his arm, his entire body clenching with each thrust, moans stuttering. Taekwoon fucked him hard, and Yixing let go of Taekwoon to wrap his hand around his own cock, pumping himself just as roughly as Taekwoon was fucking him. Yixing came with a cry, and the tight ring of muscle clenched around Taekwoon’s cock. It was too much, and Taekwoon’s orgasm hit him like a bolt of lightning, electrifying, leaving him numb as fireworks exploded in his nerves.

He came down with a moaned sigh before pulling out of Yixing. Yixing looked up at him, sweaty, skin flushed.

“Came too fast,” Yixing said, and there was something in his eyes that Taekwoon wasn’t sure if he liked.

He groaned, lying face down next to Yixing. “Too demanding,” Taekwoon complained. “I’m tired.”

Yixing laughed. “Cute,” he said, and Taekwoon couldn’t even bother smacking him that hard.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

The little green notification light on his phone had been flashing for the past two hours, but Taekwoon couldn't bring himself to clear it. Instead, he turned it face down. Again. 

Taekwoon flopped face down on his desk, arm outstretched, hand dangling off the edge. He didn't care. Everything sucked. Nothing mattered. Everything was terrible. Ugh. And he was tired. And sleepy. And hungry. And tired. He needed coffee. And food. Lots of food. And lots of coffee. Was there a limit to how much coffee someone could drink before they died? He was probably far from that limit. Probably. 

Something flew through the air and landed in the vicinity of his head. Taekwoon didn't even bother looking up.

"Get it together hyung," Hongbin grumbled. "I'm _not_ going to get you another latte or americano or whatever coffee drink you've been sending me out for."

Taekwoon grunted and fumbled for the scrunched up ball of paper, face still firmly planted against the desk. He tossed it across the room and was rewarded with a sharp yelp followed by a muffled thump.

"What the fuck," Hongbin muttered. Taekwoon lifted his head just enough to watch as he clambered to his feet and straighten his clothes, giving Taekwoon a thoroughly displeased stare. Taekwoon's lip curled in some amusement, before he dropped his head again.

"That is unfair—how can you do that, you weren't even looking—ugh I'm starting to sound like you." Hongbin made a sound of disgust, the chair creaking as he threw himself into it again. 

"I hate everyone," Taekwoon said. The words were muffled, given that they were spoken to the solid wood of the desk instead of to the room or anywhere semi productive. 

"Yeah, I think you made that clear," Hongbin said under his breath.

"It turned out fine," Taekwoon snapped.

It was a testament to the amount of time that Hongbin had spent with Taekwoon that he understood what Taekwoon was saying at all. The combination of Taekwoon's usual soft tone and the whole speaking into the desk thing made his words all but unintelligible, if not entirely so.

Hongbin sighed, the sigh of someone who'd dealt with too much shit. "Yes, because somehow terrifying _mobsters_ into a deal is fine and normal. You are such a child, hyung."

The truth was, Hongbin himself had frozen in fear for a good ten seconds when Taekwoon had stormed out of the adjoining meeting room, and he'd thought he'd inured himself to all and any of Taekwoon's moods. He could only imagine the effect it had had on the uninitiated. And, Hongbin had to admit, it _had_ turned out fine, even though when he'd pried the story out of Taekwoon, it turned out he'd barely said ten words altogether. 

And now, the same man was sulking on his desk like a five year old. Hongbin pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Pull yourself together," Hongbin muttered, but not too loud, because he didn't fancy getting brained with something harder and heavier than paper.

"Why am I even doing this." Taekwoon finally pulled himself upright, or enough to jam an arm under his chin, managing to look even sulkier than usual. It came out as more of a whine than Taekwoon would've liked. He grimaced. "I don't even care."

"Have you ever cared?" Hongbin shot back. Taekwoon scowled, and Hongbin's lip curled in a slight self satisfied smirk. "There. I don't know why you're so hung up on this one."

"Because it's complicated," Taekwoon said. Complained. Again, he didn't _mean_ to whine, it just...came out as one.

Hongbin snorted. "What's complicated? You got told to do this, leave that there, then—bam, you're done. Seriously, this is a really bad time to grow a conscience."

Taekwoon frowned, mulling through Hongbin's words. "It's complicated," he repeated stubbornly. "That's all."

Hongbin shrugged, giving Taekwoon a skeptical stare. Taekwoon pressed his lips into a line and stared back. Hongbin didn't know the half of it, that was the thing. He'd never asked before, he didn't realise that there was something different here, different enough that it was...annoying. Taekwoon grimaced again, unable to find a better word to describe it.

"It's because of the wife, right?" Hongbin said. He shrugged. "It's done, let it go."

"It's complicated," Taekwoon repeated for a third time then sighed, dropping his head again. It hit the desk with a soft thunk. "It's easier when I just have to stab them. Or strangle them. Or poison them." He paused. "Guns are messy, but they're still okay."

Hongbin gaped at him for a good ten seconds that Taekwoon missed, face buried in the table as he was. "You're unbelievable," he finally said. "You'd rather _stab_ someone than push them down a flight of stairs?"

Taekwoon nodded, kind of. As much as one could nod when they were face down on a table. 

"It's more straightforward," he said. "More honest."

"Honest," Hongbin repeated incredulously. "Killing someone. Is honest."

Taekwoon shrugged and dragged himself upright. He rubbed blearily at his face, unable to wipe off the red imprint on his forehead and on his cheek. Hongbin carefully schooled his expression into something that was not laughter. 

Taekwoon flipped his phone over to check the time—that damn notification was still there. Of course, because he'd neither opened nor replied to the text message. Three in the afternoon. He sighed.

"Fine," he said. A week had already passed, yesterday. He couldn’t put it off any longer. "Fine. I'll do it tonight."

"That's the spirit," Hongbin said, and the hint of mirth in his voice was far too much at odds with the situation. But as far as Hongbin was concerned, making the best of the situation was the easiest way to live life.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

Taekwoon grit his teeth, hands jammed in his pocket as he walked away. The streetlights here were dimmer than they should be and he'd checked the cameras before he'd come here the first time. He was confident he wasn't being seen, black short sleeve and pants as he was wearing, regardless. His heart pounded in his chest, and the damn thing wouldn't quiet. Nor could he stem the rush of blood in his ears, his limbs, the energy still thrumming through his skin. He hadn't felt like this for...For longer than he could remember. Throat tight, chest tight, pulse racing.

His fingers curled around his left arm unthinking, rubbing at the raw skin. Hongbin's car was just ahead, Taekwoon recognising the shape in the deep shadow of the night. It was only with some effort that he managed to school his expression into one of passivity, but even so, Hongbin's stare was wide eyed in surprise when Taekwoon slipped into the passenger seat. 

"What happened to you?" Hongbin asked.

"I fucked up," Taekwoon said simply. He stared at Hongbin, daring him to say more. Hongbin held his stare for barely a second before he looked away, shaking his head.

Taekwoon sighed, soft and high. "It's that bad?" he asked. He glanced down at his left forearm where three long scratches, deep gouges in places, crossed red and angry down to his wrist. When he'd touched the side of his neck earlier, he'd come away with a faint smudge of blood. It made him feel marginally better about the body he'd left at the bottom of the stairs and the pool of blood that'd started to form under its head. He'd had to grab the man and smash his head down again, just to make sure, but at least he was dead. Definitely dead. 

Hongbin shook his head again, this time, his fingers reaching towards Taekwoon. Taekwoon jerked away, but Hongbin fixed him with a sharp stare.

"Should be able to hide that," Hongbin said, drawing his hand back from where it'd pushed aside the collar of Taekwoon's shirt. He nodded at Taekwoon's arm. "You're lucky he didn't get the back of your hand too."

"Just take me home," Taekwoon said. His voice was resigned, tired, soft, defeated, but the adrenaline was still there, his posture still held like a panther, muscles coiled, ready to strike, at odds with his voice. 

When Hongbin didn't move, Taekwoon turned to stare at him. "Home?" he said, but Hongbin was staring at him, eyes almost hungry, lip curled.

"You look good," Hongbin murmured. "All scratched up like that."

"Yeah?" Taekwoon let his voice drop.

"Mmm," Hongbin said. "Really good."

"You're lucky I like you," Taekwoon said, but there was still enough heat in him that he didn't need much prompting to twist in his seat. Hongbin's eyes were challenging—Taekwoon tipped up his chin and kissed him roughly. Hongbin's fingers gripped at his shoulder, thumb pressing against the scratches at the base of Taekwoon's neck. Taekwoon hissed, nipping at Hongbin's lip. Hongbin's mouth was clamped shut, and he laughed low in his throat at Taekwoon's sound of annoyance. Taekwoon bit down harder, even as he pressed against the join of Hongbin's jaw. Hongbin's mouth parted in a snarl and Taekwoon wasted no time licking into his mouth.

"You forgot to breathe," Taekwoon murmured smugly when Hongbin shoved him off, chest heaving.

"Fuck off." Hongbin's lip curled, eyes still dark and hooded as he moved over the divider in a flash, digging his knees into Taekwoon's thighs. 

Taekwoon leaned back against the seat as Hongbin pushed him back, kissing him as roughly as Taekwoon had kissed him earlier, far more teeth and harshness than necessary. They jerked back abruptly when Taekwoon yanked the lever under the seat, the seat slamming back.

Hongbin pulled back enough to shoot him an angry glare before he was pressing Taekwoon down again. His mouth closed about the skin of Taekwoon's shoulder and Taekwoon hissed, Hongbin's tongue hot and rough against the scratches there. 

" _Fuck_ ," Taekwoon breathed. He pushed Hongbin off, cold rush of air hitting the damp patch of skin. "What the fuck?"

Hongbin's lips curled smugly. "Doing you a favour," he said, voice low. "Unless you want your cop boyfriend to see that."

"Boyfriend?" Taekwoon's voice dropped dangerously low, lips pulled back.

"Fuck buddy," Hongbin said, but he'd already pinned Taekwoon back again, pressing against Taekwoon's arms as well this time. Taekwoon couldn't help the moan as Hongbin's tongue lapped at his skin again, overly sensitive, little sparks of pain mild against his nerves. His mouth was hot, tight, as he sucked at his skin. Taekwoon gasped a little when Hongbin closed his teeth lightly around his skin, and then again as Hongbin pulled away, only to nose further up his neck, nipping at the skin there.

"Or does he not know he's not the only one." Hongbin's voice played against Taekwoon's skin, damp with spit. Taekwoon had wormed his arm out, and now dug his fingers into Hongbin's shoulder, tilting his head back at the same time.

"It's...never come up," Taekwoon breathed. Small noises slipped between his lips, little "ah"s and moans, smothered attempts, quiet and light. His chest was heaving and his heart seemed to be pounding even louder than it had been walking out of that house, if that was possible. 

"He'll know now," Hongbin murmured. He was kissing lightly down Taekwoon's skin now, brief and gentle, trailing along his collar bones, leaving a deep kiss in the hollow of his neck that had Taekwoon tilting his head back, gripping at Hongbin's shoulders, a low moan of pleasure thrumming through his skin.

Taekwoon disengaged one of his hands from where it was pressing bruises into Hongbin's arm to palm at Hongbin's erection. There was a sharp intake of air, cold against Taekwoon's skin. Taekwoon took the moment to tug at Hongbin's hair with his other hand, pulling his head back, sucking a rough mark into his skin, the same place where Hongbin had marked him. Hongbin was loud, moaning openly. His fingers knocked against Taekwoon's as he undid the button of his own jeans, hands unsteady, Taekwoon's tongue dragging insistent circles against his skin.

It was quick, dirty, Hongbin coming within minutes as Taekwoon stroked him rough with a practiced hand. He came with a low keen, buried against Taekwoon's shoulder. A few moments later, Taekwoon had jerked himself off as well, hand still covered in Hongbin's come. His breathing was harsh, and Hongbin's was rough against him as well. It was long moments before their breaths evened, before their chests stilled into regular rhythm, before Hongbin was pressed against Taekwoon in drowsy relaxation instead.

Hongbin reached up to the join between his neck and shoulder and grimaced. "Fuck you," he said, words dissipating against Taekwoon. "Channie's gonna kill me."

"Serves you right," Taekwoon said. He worried at his lip for a brief second, rubbing the same spots that Hongbin was and then shrugged. Taekwoon jerked his knee up and smiled when Hongbin fell backwards, hitting the dashboard with an undignified yelp.

"You're heavy," Taekwoon said placidly.

Hongbin glowered at him but got back into the driver's seat. He glanced down at his pants and grimaced. "I'm using your shower," he told Taekwoon as he pulled on his seatbelt.

"You started it," Taekwoon said.

"Right." Hongbin snorted and started the car. He shot Taekwoon a sharp glance. "Seat. Belt."

Taekwoon's mouth twitched in irritation, but he did as Hongbin said. He let his legs stretch out in front of him, the seat pushed all the way back as it was. "Wake me up when we get there," Taekwoon said.

Hongbin might have made several snide comments about not being Taekwoon's chauffeur, but they were lost on Taekwoon, who fell into the deep abyss of sleep almost far too quickly.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

Hakyeon dropped dramatically into the chair in front of him. Taekwoon blinked, taking off his headphones. "Hello," he said carefully.

"A breath of fresh air," Hakyeon said, slumping down into his seat for a moment. He sighed then sat up, shooting Taekwoon a bright smile. "I'm talking about you."

Taekwoon could feel himself flushing. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked.

It was a nice day, so when it was clear that Hakyeon hadn’t arrived yet, Taekwoon had decided to sit outside. He gestured towards the shop itself. Hakyeon nodded and levered himself up to his feet. Taekwoon took the moment to wrap up his headphones and tuck them back into his jacket pocket. He sipped at his latte, now considerably cooler, as he waited for Hakyeon to re-emerge.

It was a few minutes before Hakyeon came back. Taekwoon found himself admiring the way Hakyeon's pants fit around his ass, then immediately looked away, furiously fighting the flush rising at the back of his neck. Thankfully, Hakyeon was too busy sipping at his iced coffee to notice.

"That's better," Hakyeon said. He breathed a huge sigh, as he leaned back in the chair. It was interesting, watching the tension melt away from him. It wasn't a big difference, but it was noticeable enough, the way his shoulders seemed to relax, his smile less forced, his eyes more alive. His smile grew wider when he caught Taekwoon's eyes on him.

"I almost thought I'd lost you again," Hakyeon said. He laughed, voice light. A frown flickered across Taekwoon's face. He gave Hakyeon a questioning look.

"It hasn't even been two weeks," Taekwoon said.

Hakyeon sighed in an exaggerated fashion. "Yeah, but it was so _sudden_ ," he whined. "You just disappeared."

"I...was busy," Taekwoon said. He blinked. Now he remembered. He'd meant to reply to Hakyeon's text, he had. But then the meeting with Director Jeon had happened, and now...

"You're busy too," Taekwoon said.

Hakyeon nodded, expression mock mournful, before shifting into serious. "Justice never sleeps," he said. There was a bit of a joke to it, but his face had grown drawn.

"You're working on a case?" Taekwoon asked.

"Unfortunately," Hakyeon said. He cracked a smile. "There's never a case that's fortunate, but hopefully we'll get to the bottom of it soon. That's always the best thing that can happen. It'd be better if there were no cases, but..."

"Then you wouldn't have a job," Taekwoon said. He kept his words light, and it drew another small smile from the police officer.

"A world without crime?" Hakyeon asked. "Or a world where crime isn't reported? If it could be the first, I wouldn't mind being unemployed. I am a man of many talents, I'm sure I could find another job."

Taekwoon chuckled lightly. "I guess we're not so lucky," he said.

"Mmm." Hakyeon nodded, sipping at his drink. He gave Taekwoon a wan smile. "You're the one who taught me there would always be crime."

"No," Taekwoon said automatically. And then, after a pause: "because humans are selfish."

"Oh? You think so?" Hakyeon said. He shook his head. "Not everyone is," he said. He smiled at Taekwoon again. "Like you."

Taekwoon snorted, corner of his mouth twitching in disbelief, but for once, he didn't correct Hakyeon. For all he knew, Hakyeon was just playing, anyway.

“Except when it comes to food,” Hakyeon said—this earned him a sharp kick to the shins.

"Anyways!" Hakyeon clapped his hands together, once he’d gotten over his indignation, making Taekwoon jump a little in his seat. Hakyeon's eyes crinkled when he noticed. "What's been going on in your life? Has anything interesting happened lately?"

Taekwoon mutely shook his head. Of course, he couldn't say, oh, I was just busy killing some old man which is why I never replied to your text. So, he shook his head.

Hakyeon hummed, nodding. "Must be because you didn't have me in your life," he teased. Taekwoon let out a breath of skeptical laughter, rolling his eyes. "Ahh, you never replied to my texts!" Hakyeon whined.

"I replied," Taekwoon said. He blinked. "I said okay."

"You said—that doesn't count," Hakyeon said. His nose wrinkled, as he gave Taekwoon a disappointed look.

Taekwoon shrugged. "Or I wouldn't be here."

"I suppose," Hakyeon said doubtfully. He sighed. "Although, you're right, I was too busy and forgot to bother you."

"You admit you bother me?" Taekwoon raised his eyebrows.

"It's out of love!" Hakyeon said. "It's an expression of friendship!"

It was anyone's guess as to what the look that passed over Taekwoon's face was. Hakyeon, perhaps, took it for irritation or disgust. Taekwoon, perhaps, took it for confusion. Whatever it was, it was one of discomfit, and one that made Hakyeon laugh. That was much easier to react to—Taekwoon pressed his lips together and shot Hakyeon a dead look.

"You're not really bothered anyway," Hakyeon said knowingly. Taekwoon only narrowed his eyes. Hakyeon, gratifyingly, meeped.

"I am," Taekwoon said. 

Hakyeon eased away from Taekwoon's glare, waiting until Taekwoon seemed to have suitably unruffled his feathers. It didn’t take much for Taekwoon to relent, because, well, this was par for the course. As much as Taekwoon was loathe to admit. He sighed, heavily, but went back to sipping at his drink.

“How’re the kids?” Taekwoon asked. He held the cup up to his lips, tongue flicking out experimentally at the foam. Habit, although it had cooled now. Still, it was a nice feeling. He blinked at Hakyeon. 

Hakyeon waved his hand dismissively, but Taekwoon could notice the sparkle in Hakyeon’s eyes. Taekwoon smiled as he listened to Hakyeon launch into a tirade over paperwork and something about a broken stapler, complete with long suffering sighs that he didn’t really mean. 

“Children grow up so _fast_ ,” Hakyeon was saying. He shook his head. “Teenagers. That’s what Sanghyuk’s going through. I can never tell what he’s thinking these days. Although, he did tell me I looked good, so that means he has at least _some_ sense.”

Taekwoon nodded. It was warm, and he scratched idly under the high collar. He shrugged off his jacket without thinking—for a split second, he stared at Hakyeon in confusion. Stared at Hakyeon’s wide eyed surprised, and then the flash of an expression Taekwoon couldn’t quite name. Stared, and then hastily pulled his jacket back on, tugging the collar, but it was already too late. He’d forgotten. Forgotten he’d worn the jacket because the collar had been high. Forgotten about the unmistakable bruises Hongbin had left against his skin, overlapping the scratches.

“It’s…” Taekwoon said, but there was nothing he could exactly _say_ that wasn’t the absolute truth, and the absolute truth was absolute enough.

Hakyeon was still staring at him and Taekwoon thought he saw hurt behind his shuttered expression, but it was hard to tell because his face was nigh unreadable. Taekwoon could already feel the flush creeping up his neck but there was something in Hakyeon’s expression that sent something else entirely welling up inside of him, something that ate the swell of embarrassment, that swallowed it whole and buried it somewhere so deep inside of him that it forced up a spring of cool disdain, if that was even the word for it.

“Yes,” Taekwoon said. “The answer to your question is yes.”

Something fell, snapped, broke in Hakyeon’s expression. “And what question is that?” he asked. Taekwoon tried not to listen too hard to the tone behind his words.

“You thought that there was something between us,” Taekwoon said. He said them quietly, still, but with a desperation that felt too out of place. He had to say _something_. “Yes, you’re not the only person I fuck.” Taekwoon all but spat out the words, not out of anger, nor out of spite, but because if they lingered a moment longer on his tongue they would have melted right back and caught in his windpipe and silenced him for good, and that, Taekwoon couldn’t risk.

“You thought there was something between us,” Taekwoon repeated, “but I don’t think I ever agreed to that. We’re not kids anymore, Hakyeon, and this isn’t one of your love story dramas.”

He knew his words were cold and he could only hope that he kept the tremble out of his voice. His eyes, he had practice with, focussed and hard and unyielding. Taekwoon tugged at his sleeve, the left one.

“My cat,” he said unthinking, voice suddenly his usual near murmur. It was gone, now, that inexplicable force that had carried him through those long seconds, minutes, and Taekwoon wanted nothing more than to shrink inside of himself, to disappear, to hide from Hakyeon’s eyes.

“I think—” and for a moment, Taekwoon thought he was the one who spoke, but when he glanced up, it was Hakyeon whose lips were moving. “I think we shouldn’t see each other for a while,” Hakyeon said, and his words hit Taekwoon like one of Wonsik’s punches, hard, breath knocked out of his chest, his voice so, so cold that Taekwoon had never thought was possible from Hakyeon, so warm.

But Taekwoon simply gathered himself up. Pulled his face into the coolest expression he could manage.

“I agree,” he said. He didn’t wait for Hakyeon to reply before he was strolling down the street, hands jammed in his pockets, doing his damned hardest not to sprint to some dark corner and hide from the world, and from the look in Hakyeon’s eyes.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

Yixing was still sprawled over the bed when Taekwoon came out of the shower, hair towel dried damp. He picked up his clothes where it’d been strewn over the floor and dressed quickly, Yixing’s eyes sleepy on him.

“I’m going,” Taekwoon said. Yixing sat up and nodded. He trailed Taekwoon to the door, rubbing blearily at his eyes. It was familiar, Yixing leaning against the wall as Taekwoon did up his shoes, let himself out. His hair clung to the back of his neck, and he pushed back his bangs as he stepped into the hallway.

“Taekwoon.”

He stopped at the sound of his name, quiet, mindful of neighbours asleep at three in the morning, and turned to see Yixing silhouetted against the apartment, one hand resting lightly on the frame of the door. Taekwoon frowned lightly.

“You don’t have a car, do you?” Yixing asked.

Taekwoon’s frown deepend. “You know I don’t drive.”

“You don’t live near here,” Yixing continued, as if Taekwoon hadn’t answered, as if the question had been one he’d asked himself. It was soft enough to be as if he were speaking to himself, but the way his eyes were trained on Taekwoon made it clear that it was a question. A question that Yixing knew the answer to.

“We’ve known each other for two years,” Taekwoon said, after a long pause. “Why now?”

Yixing shrugged, the corner of his lip curling in a helpless smile. “I never thought about it before now?”

Taekwoon stared at him, but Yixing’s half smile did not waver; his eyes, however, seemed to darken by the second, gaze heavier, but not in anger, nor anything close to it. The truth behind his eyes wormed at Taekwoon, and it was one that he was ready to walk away from.

“Goodnight, Yixing,” he said softly. 

He’d barely gone another step when he was halted by Yixing’s voice again. This time, however, it was to his back that Yixing spoke.

“Why do you never wait for the trains?” Yixing asked.

It was another question that Yixing could himself answer. And so, Taekwoon continued walking, leaving a resigned “goodnight, Taekwoon” trailing in the hollow wake of the echoes of his footsteps.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

“You’re so good with children.” Yixing said this quietly, one of those thoughts that were half to himself, yet more than half meant to be heard. Yet he still seemed to startle in surprise when he caught Taekwoon’s eyes turned sharp on him, still seemed to let that facsimile of surprise melt into an easy, lopsided smile. “I’ve seen you,” he added. “You’re so good with them, and they all love you.”

Taekwoon glanced at Yixing, resting his feet a little more comfortably on the bar between the legs of the stool. Taekwoon’s glass of beer was fast warming between his hands, the glass itself near empty, only a few fingers worth of amber filling its bottom. It was late already, near closing, and it was a quiet, weekday night. The murmur of conversation was low, hidden beneath the music.

“No,” he said, because he wasn’t sure what to say. He was mumbling, perhaps, but whether it was because of the late hour, the alcohol, or something else entirely was hidden under too many layers of perhaps.

“You’ve never seen yourself,” Yixing said. He slid back in his seat, rested his cheek against his arms, flat on the counter. His eyes, which always seemed to carry a downward droop of dazedness, appeared even more hooded from this angle, from the slow carry of his measured words. “Your smile is so…”

Yixing trailed off, and Taekwoon lifted his glass to his lips.

“Happy.”

The sound of glass striking wood eclipsed the end of the word. The motion did not go unnoticed by Yixing who straightened, propped up his chin in his hand, gaze sharp beneath the apparent drowsiness. 

“Sometimes when I see you, I think ‘you’ll be a really good father’. That day in the park, do you remember? Those kids, you helped them get their ball back and then you played with them...and those are the only times you really smile. They were fawning over you...and you let them and you were so happy. You should. You would.”

“You’re drunk.” The words slipped out of Taekwoon’s mouth as soon as Yixing had finished speaking, held back already too long, but he couldn’t have interrupted.

Yixing’s lips curled into a small smile, his drawn eyes not quite matching the sweet dimpling of his cheek. “Maybe,” he said. “But then you know I’m not lying.” A soft giggle punctuated his words before he let his chin rest again against his forearms, pressed against the bar.

Taekwoon slowly turned his glass about on the bar, a damp spot beneath it from the condensation that had long since dribbled away from the glass itself. The smile had dropped from Yixing’s face, and he was now staring at some spot far in the distance, despite the wall that was a bare few meters away.

“You should do it for me,” Yixing said. A sudden lull of silence meant that his words, quiet and half spoken as they were, hung loud and bare in the space between them. If Taekwoon had expected to see any change in Yixing’s expression when he turned his head, he would’ve been disappointed. As it were, Taekwoon merely blinked at him, long and slow and not quite understanding.

“For you?” Taekwoon asked. Yixing nodded, a brief jerk of his head.

“For me,” he affirmed. Taekwoon waited, knowing that Yixing had more to say that he hadn’t yet said. But this time, it wasn’t until they were just about to leave, when they were already the last patrons in the place.

“Parents want what’s best for their children, but maybe some people shouldn’t be parents.” Yixing paused, his back unconsciously stiffening, shoulders pulling taut as he stared down into his glass. Taekwoon’s hand hovered uncertain for a moment as he debated placing his hand on Yixing’s back, smoothing his hand over his skin through his shirt between, against the scars there, a facsimile of comfort. He did not know how to offer comfort.

“Maybe I’m just one of them,” Yixing said.

Taekwoon placed his hand on Yixing’s thigh instead.

“We should leave,” Taekwoon said. Yixing jerked up as if being pulled out from a dream, eyes snapping back to reality, all of it melting away with a smile that wasn’t quite there.

“Yes,” Yixing agreed. “We should.”

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

A strangled moan ripped its way out of Taekwoon's throat, his body clenching tight against the intrusion. Taekwoon fucked himself down against Yixing's fingers as Yixing murmured sounds of encouragement against Taekwoon's bare shoulders, collarbones, soft kisses in time with his fingers feeling against Taekwoon's walls. Taekwoon's body ached with every touch—aches of anticipation peppered with the overwhelming ache of pressure, each as sweet as the last.

He clutched at the sheets, eagerly giving up his moans to Yixing's mouth, his skin hot. Taekwoon _needed_ , and he whined with that need. Legs spread wide, as much access as he could give to Yixing who obliged, rubbing circles against Taekwoon, mouth sucking hot at Taekwoon's lips, body pressed against Taekwoon's, so much heat between them, his body fairly burning against Yixing. Taekwoon had sucked Yixing off earlier, but Yixing's dick was pressed hard between them, rubbing against Taekwoon's cock, hard and swollen and Taekwoon was on the verge of coming. He rutted up against Yixing, and Yixing gasped sudden into Taekwoon's mouth. Experimentally, Taekwoon did it again, and again, and Yixing's fingers inside him sent an insistent white hot pleasure pulsing up within him in a matching rhythm, driving Taekwoon’s nerves into oversensitivity.

"Almost?" Yixing's voiced tickled along Taekwoon's jaw. Taekwoon's moan was far from articulate, but he didn't need to be, not when Yixing could feel him hard and full against his skin. "Alright then," Yixing said, and wrapped his hand around their dicks—Taekwoon came, eagerly, Yixing biting at his bared neck, head arched back as he whimpered, fingers still clutching at sheets. He barely registered Yixing coming moments later with a content sigh, come mixing with Taekwoon's, spilling onto his stomach.

Yixing rolled off him, sprawled, one of his arms smacking Taekwoon in the chest as he stretched. Taekwoon whined in irritation but didn't push it off, preferring to sink further into the mattress, less effort, more reward. He almost felt like he could sleep but he was sticky with sweat and more, which was not a comfortable feeling. He let himself linger for another five minutes before he rolled himself off the bed and onto the floor. Taekwoon showered quickly, hanging the towel up for Yixing to use later—he made a mental note to remind Yixing to do his laundry soon. Yixing was still rolling on the bed when Taekwoon came out, throwing himself onto the bed as well, landing half on Yixing's legs.

"You're heavy," Yixing complained, but he didn't kick Taekwoon off. Taekwoon rolled onto his back, pinning Yixing's legs more firmly under him. Yixing gave Taekwoon a dirty look—the corner of Taekwoon's lip curled in amusement before he sat up. Yixing immediately pulled his legs up to his chest.

"Where did I leave my pants?" Taekwoon murmured, glancing around the room.

"Those are mine," Yixing said as Taekwoon reached for a pair. "I think yours are over here."

Taekwoon clambered back onto the bed, reaching over to the other side where his pants had been kicked to, as Yixing had said. He pulled them onto his lap as he sat up, rummaging in his pockets, coming out with a pack of cigarettes and his lighter.

"Not inside," Yixing reminded him.

Taekwoon shot him a sad look over his shoulder. "I don't want to put on pants," he complained.

"Not. Inside," Yixing said.

Taekwoon heaved a long sigh, then just let it all fall back onto the floor, the lighter hitting the ground with a soft thump.

"You don't need to put on pants to go outside," Yixing pointed out.

"I'm not an exhibitionist like you," Taekwoon said.

"I didn't tell you to go out naked," Yixing said. He nudged at Taekwoon with his foot.

"It's too hot for pants," Taekwoon said, looking sadly down at his poor choice of jeans. 

"Third time this week," Yixing said.

Taekwoon frowned, turning his head to squint at Yixing. Yixing had wiggled up the bed to lean against the headboard, and was now staring drowsily at Taekwoon, hair sweat mussed and stuck up every way.

"What is?" he asked.

Yixing shrugged, like Taekwoon should know the answer to that. It took Taekwoon a moment, before he did.

"You called me over," he said, but it was nearer a whine than anything else.

"I know," Yixing said.

"It's not four?"

"Which?"

"That night you told me to meet you at the bar," Taekwoon said. Yixing frowned as he thought, before his expression smoothed out and he nodded to himself.

"I didn't count that," Yixing said, as if it weren't obvious. "It doesn't count."

"Why shouldn't it?"

Yixing pressed his lips together as he thought, and Taekwoon waited for an answer. Instead, what he got was: "I guess I called, but you came every time," said in half wonderment. 

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Why would you?"

Taekwoon frowned, taken aback at Yixing's quick response. "Why shouldn't I?" he said this time.

"You'd only come if you wanted to," Yixing said.

"You don't make sense," Taekwoon said.

Yixing shrugged to that. "It makes sense," he said, defensive.

"I don't see what you're trying to say," Taekwoon said.

"That you have your own reasons," Yixing said. "I know I'm not very smart—but you can be very obvious sometimes."

"Obvious?" Taekwoon echoed. Yixing nodded.

The bed creaked as Yixing crawled to the edge, retrieving his own clothes. He pulled on his underwear then tossed the rest back onto the floor, making good on his own suggestion of pants being unnecessary in the dead of summer. Taekwoon watched him, then followed him, a little sad at the restriction of clothes as he half dressed, trailing him onto the balcony. 

"It's alright, you don't have to tell me," Yixing said. Taekwoon watched nervously as Yixing hopped onto the balcony railing, hands gripping it tight, feet pushed between the bars of the balcony railing, maintaining a fragile balance as Yixing sat, perched on a thin metal bar, high enough above the city that a fall would do far more damage than a few bruises or harmless, broken bones.

"Because you're going to tell me?" Taekwoon hazarded. He leaned against the wall, pressing himself against it, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other flat against the reassuring solidity of stone.

"You're not going to ask?" Yixing asked. Mirth played about his lips but he shrugged it off. "Ah, 'what's the point', or something like that, right? I guess you're right, this time."

"I'm always right," Taekwoon said, but it was more a reflex than a response. Nonetheless, Yixing chuckled. His bare feet pressed against the metal bars, toes curling against them. 

"I suppose," Yixing said. He leaned back, just a bit, and Taekwoon jerked forward, just a bit, but Yixing's grip on the railing was firm, and he swung easily back upright, before hopping back onto solid concrete. He shot Taekwoon a quick smile. "Don't worry," he said. "I wouldn't do something like that. At least, not in front of you."

Taekwoon worried at that last sentence for a few minutes, but could come up with nothing suitable to say.

There were the sounds of sirens in the distance, and Yixing leaned against the railing, staring at the direction they'd come from.

"They've been working hard," Yixing said.

"The police?"

Yixing nodded. "There was the drug bust the other day. They’ve been cracking down hard, too. Undercover. Stings."

"That was near you," Taekwoon said. He spoke softly, unsure if he meant to be heard. Yixing glanced at him, quick and sharp.

"What do you mean?" he said.

"Isn't it?" Taekwoon met Yixing's eyes evenly, and it was Yixing who turned away. 

"I didn't know you knew," Yixing said.

"I didn't," Taekwoon said. "I guessed."

Yixing let out a bark of laughter at Taekwoon's echo of himself. "Now you know," he said. "But you're right. It's near us."

"Be careful," Taekwoon said.

Yixing laughed again, soft and light. "Pots and kettles," he said.

"I'm always careful," Taekwoon said.

Suddenly, Yixing was there next to him, fingers playing down Taekwoon's skin, tracing still fading marks against his neck, his shoulder, trailing down his arm. Taekwoon shivered at the touch, skin prickling, as if a cold breeze had pushed through inside of him. He stood still as Yixing's fingers wrapped around the curve of Taekwoon's arm, as Yixing leaned forward, kissing soft and sweet at the crook of Taekwoon's neck. 

"Be careful," Yixing murmured into the skin there, and there was light laughter in it. Yixing's hand slipped into Taekwoon's pocket, and when he came away, it was with the crumpled pack of cigarettes that Taekwoon had shoved back in when he'd put his pants on.

"Mine are inside," Yixing explained. Taekwoon wordlessly handed the lighter over to him, trading it for one of his own cigarettes.

Yixing lit them both with practice before he stepped away to lean back against the railing again, elbows propped up against it. 

It was comforting, familiar, to let silence blossom between them, to let smoke curl up in the spaces left empty by words. Long moments of muted breaths and nothing more. The light was on in the apartment, and now with the door open, it spilled onto the balcony, frail as it was. Still, it was enough to see the lines of Yixing's body, stretched in relaxation. He caught Taekwoon looking, and his expression took on a smug, smoldering smirk. Taekwoon wrinkled his nose at him.

"Maybe you are always careful," Yixing suddenly said, "but that didn't help, right?"

Taekwoon hesitated. Yixing wasn't looking at him, nor was he looking away at him. Past him, perhaps. Into the apartment. Somewhere else. He hadn't been as careful as he should've been, he thought about admitting, but instead, he just shook his head. It seemed to be the right answer because Yixing smiled, a little, just enough so that his dimple showed as he turned his head, looked towards the city. 

"'Be careful', but there's not much point then, is there?"

"That's not true," Taekwoon said, but it sounded weak even to his own ears.

"It won't matter when it matters," Yixing said. The words were not spoken to Taekwoon, but he sensed that they were still spoken at him, that they were meant for him to hear. Smoke flitted above Yixing's fingers, catching against the lingering light, disappearing into the floor of the balcony above, the air of the city behind.

"Something happened?" Taekwoon said.

Yixing glanced back at him, a little startled, a little amused. "Ah, so you did ask," he said. He smiled, eyes curling just the slightest as he did. "Nothing really happened. Oh, at least, not recently. Nothing really happened recently, to me."

"So something happened in the past, to you," Taekwoon said. "And something happened recently, but not to you."

"Something like that," Yixing agreed.

Taekwoon brought his cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply, watching as the end glowed a warm orange, as he drew heat into himself in a calming hush. The cloud of smoke filled the space in front of him for moments, before it dissipated and disappeared.

“That’s the first time you came, marked by another man,” Yixing commented.

Taekwoon jerked backwards, seeking Yixing’s expression, cringing from the judgement he expected to find there. There was, of course, nothing. Taekwoon’s posture stiffened, his shoulders curling inwards as he lounged further back against the wall of Yixing’s apartment. There was nothing to hide, for everything that could’ve been hidden had faded, and everything that might’ve been hidden had already been seen.

“Is it?” he said. His voice was soft, softer than usual, perhaps to understate any waver that might have otherwise shown through. 

“Woman?” Yixing tilted his head.

“Man,” Taekwoon said, shaking his head.

“Then yes,” Yixing said. He stared down at his cigarette, the ashes at the end. “Ah, don’t take it the wrong way. It was just a comment. I was thinking aloud.”

“Of what?”

“Of things,” Yixing said, then giggled, as if to say ‘what did you expect me to say?’ 

Taekwoon sighed, because what else had he expected, it was true.

Silence, long breaths of it, lingered after that sigh as if ushered in or perhaps dragged in by the sound. Yixing turned to face the city, and Taekwoon made to join him, but the movement shifted instead to one that merely pressed him further back against the darkness.

“Things that happened?” Taekwoon was the one to break the silence, the question drifting through to Yixing, carried by a breath of smoke.

A breath, and then Yixing nodded, and then Yixing shook his head. Yes, no. Maybe. There was a puff of smoke, hovering around Yixing for a moment. A slight movement pushed it aside, pushed it away. The sound of a breath.

“Have you ever lost a friend?”

Taekwoon let a beat, and then another, wash over them. “Not a friend,” he said. And then his lips parted in a twist of a smile.

“Right, you don’t make friends,” Yixing said, and his words carried his usual careful enunciation, and for a moment there was something so incongruous between the two that Taekwoon was frozen. He stared at Yixing’s back, unsure, as if waiting for the bitterness, waiting for the sharpness, waiting for something other than Yixing’s usual, off handed tone. But Yixing merely waited, breathed, exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“Hmm. He would’ve been...I’ve never been good at math. I don’t know. A year older than I am?”

“I don’t know how old you are,” Taekwoon pointed out. He glanced down at his own cigarette and then moved over near Yixing to tap away the ash into the air below. Yixing didn’t like it when it got on his balcony, either.

“Right,” Yixing said. His lips quirked in a smile that Taekwoon missed. Like this, side by side, staring out into the city, the light was at their back and the only thing visible of their faces were shadows. 

A long moment, before Taekwoon spoke.

“I didn’t know,” he said.

Yixing laughed, short, before it was swallowed. “How would you? You’ve never asked.”

“No, I…” Taekwoon trailed off, unsure.

“Someone stabbed him. A few times. I think. I didn’t get to see. I’m not family. Not that…” he shook his head. “I think, even if I knew the person who did it... I wouldn’t be too angry at them.”

“Why?” Taekwoon frowned. “I...would be.”

“For your hypothetical friend?” Yixing laughed softly then shook his head. “That wasn’t fair of me,” he said. He raised the cigarette to his lips, but instead, it slipped out of his fingers—the two of them could only watch as it tumbled down, free fall, the merest glow of a spark the only indication of its presence before that too disappeared. Yixing sighed and draped himself over the railing. “Do you hate the police?” he asked.

Taekwoon took a deep drag of his cigarette then held it out to Yixing. Yixing shook his head.

“Sometimes,” Taekwoon said. “I don’t like them.”

“But they’re just doing their jobs,” Yixing pointed out.

“I know.” A pause. A flash of idealism set in a young face, determined eyes, too long ago. A slight smile graced the memory, one that Taekwoon did not himself notice. “You would’ve done well,” he murmured. “As a police officer.”

A beat, and then a harsh bark of laughter.

"You don’t know me," Yixing said. There was a flash of teeth in his words although the words themselves were placid, unassuming.

"You don’t know me," Taekwoon shot back.

"That’s where you’re wrong," Yixing said. When Taekwoon turned, Yixing’s eyes were sharp on him, although a smile played on his lips and the edge melted as soon as their eyes met. "You’re very easy to read, but you don’t know it."

The words washed over Taekwoon. He tipped the cigarette between his fingers, as if willing it to drop into the city below as Yixing’s had. It didn’t. He merely took another drag at it. “People usually say the opposite,” Taekwoon said.

"Not everyone wants to learn a new language."

A hint of disbelief, the barest raise of eyebrows. "You’re saying I’m a new language?"

Yixing laughed, a small clear sound. "I’m saying I know who you are," he said.

There were too many things wrong with that, too many things that Taekwoon wanted to say ‘no’ with, that he couldn’t pick any one, and so, picked none. He let the conversation fall instead, let the muted sounds of the city wash over him. Eventually, he stepped around Yixing, grinding out his cigarette. It was time for him to go.

"Taekwoon." Yixing’s voice halted his steps, his name called hesitantly, as if to a skittish dog. Taekwoon stopped but didn’t quite turn, merely glanced over his shoulder. Yixing was hidden in the half darkness, half light, and Taekwoon couldn’t quite make out his face, half cast in deep shadow as it was. Suddenly, standing at the edge of the light, Taekwoon felt overly exposed.

"You’re a better person than you think you are," Yixing said. He paused, hesitated, as if ready to swallow the words before thinking better of it. "You’ve just never had a chance to grow up."

Taekwoon swallowed a bitter laugh at that, but like Yixing, it didn’t go as smoothly as he’d have hoped and it slipped out regardless. What have you been thinking about, he wondered. "I’ve always been grown up," he said.

The smile was so fleeting and shadowed that Taekwoon might’ve imagined it. "No," Yixing said, "you’ve always been you."

“Be careful,” Taekwoon said.

Yixing laughed. “I’ll try.”

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

The easiest thing might have been a simple ‘sorry’, but then, Taekwoon reasoned, he’d have to say what he was apologising for. And he couldn’t explain what he was apologising for when he wasn’t sure what he was apologising for. ‘I’m sorry’ ran into the same problems. Explaining...well, there wasn’t anything to explain, was there, except that there had been a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding that Taekwoon had known Hakyeon had had.

Taekwoon heaved a sigh, sprawled on his stomach, watching as the battery slowly counted down at the top of the screen as he tapped idly at it, so it wouldn’t go black. At some point, Leon had joined Choco sitting on his back, and he couldn’t very well move.

_Drinks sometime_ , Taekwoon settled for. He hit send before he could think, and then dropped his face against the floor, and figured now was as good a time as any for a nap.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

They sat with their backs to the kitchen island, the counter a slight overhang above their heads. Late afternoon had descended into late evening, and soon late evening would disappear into the depths of night. Leon sat between them, content with two sets of human hands patting him, while Choco had simply curled up, pressed against Hongbin’s side, a constant low purr vibrating against him. Hongbin reached over Choco for his beer, only to find that the bottle was already empty. He sighed, letting the back of his head hit wood with a hollow thunk. There were two empty bottles on Hongbin’s side to Taekwoon’s one.

Hongbin turned his head at a nudge against his side, a human one. He shook his head when Taekwoon held out the pack of cigarettes to him before he remembered that Hongbin didn’t smoke.

“It’s bad for you,” Hongbin said. He made a face.

Taekwoon shrugged, flicking the lighter. He watched the flame flicker at its lip until it caught, and the end of the cigarette glowed amber.

“You die one way or another,” Taekwoon said.

“I’d rather not die that way, but thanks anyway,” Hongbin said.

Taekwoon breathed out a puff of smoke, still stroking Leon with his free hand. He bumped against Hongbin’s fingers—Hongbin jerked his hand back, as if a spark had shocked between them, a good half second passing before he relaxed enough and buried his fingers again in Leon’s soft fur. Taekwoon’s phone was tossed on the floor a meter away from him, face up, but the screen and notification light both stayed stubbornly dark.

“Waiting for a call?”

Taekwoon glanced askance at Hongbin who was watching him with interest. Taekwoon rubbed at the spot behind Leon’s ears, the cat tilting his head into Taekwoon’s touch, a low rumble of a purr.

“No,” Taekwoon said.

“He’s still a cop,” Hongbin said, and Taekwoon looked at him sharply, but no, Hongbin couldn’t have read his mind. Even if it seemed like he had.

Taekwoon shifted, glowering at Hongbin as he gathered his thoughts. It’s nothing serious, we’re not friends, nothing’s going to happen, he’s just attractive, that’s all.

“Honestly, I’d rather you date that Chinese boyfriend of yours,” Hongbin said quietly.

“It’s not like that,” Taekwoon said.

He took a drag of his cigarette, letting his hand drop to his lap as he exhaled. Beside him, Hongbin’s nose wrinkled.

“We don’t know each other,” Taekwoon said carefully. He chuckled drily. “I don’t even know how old he is. Or what his full name is. Or if Yixing is even his real name. We’re not even friends. We can’t be ‘boyfriends’ if we’re not even friends.”

“Is that your reason for your cop too?” Hongbin asked. “That you ‘don’t know each other’?”

Taekwoon paused, letting himself sink into the silence left behind by Hongbin’s words. Leon’s fur was soft beneath his fingers and he rested his hand against the cat’s head, rubbing at the spots just behind Leon’s ears. 

“There will always be things I can’t say,” he said. His words were measured, hesitant, a reluctant admission of a truth he was well familiar with but did not like to reveal. Hongbin, he supposed, in some small, deep part of himself, was different. “Friendships... Relationships... It doesn’t work when you have to hide so much of yourself.”

“It’s not hiding,” Hongbin said. He shrugged, glanced at Taekwoon, then turned to stare ahead, out of Taekwoon’s large glass windows.

“If it’s not hiding, then what is it?”

“No one knows everything about another person,” Hongbin said. His words were tired, uncharacteristically so. It disappeared, though, when he flashed Taekwoon a grin, one of those sharp ones. “I know a lot about you, though.”

Taekwoon nodded, then shrugged. “I trust you,” he said.

Hongbin laughed at that. “Trust is a dangerous thing in this line of work,” he said.

“You have Chansik.”

“We live together,” Hongbin said. He paused, and seemed as if he were to sigh, but the exhale never came. It was as if Taekwoon’s breath of smoke replaced it, Hongbin’s sigh taking physical form, dim and gray, barely illuminated by the fading light outside and the digital dials of electronic appliances. “We’re together,” Hongbin said, “but there are things he doesn’t know. Just like there are things I don’t know. I’m not like you, hyung. I don’t see things as being complicated.”

“I don’t like things that are complicated,” Taekwoon said. “It’s different.”

“Right,” Hongbin said. He smiled, eyes half closed. “You want things to be simple, and that’s what complicates things.”

Taekwoon didn’t know what to say to that, because he did not know how to understand that. It were as if Hongbin had something he wanted to say, but did not know how to say.

“Your boyfriend isn’t home tonight,” he said, instead.

Hongbin’s eyes snapped open, wide, nearly, Taekwoon wondered, angry. No, not angry, wounded. “How would you know that?”

“Or you wouldn’t be here,” Taekwoon pointed out.

Hongbin huffed and leaned back against the counter, slumping down an inch. Choco twitched at the movement.

"You're right. Channie's not home and I was bored," Hongbin said.

"Alright."

Taekwoon nodded and then ground out his half smoked cigarette. Hongbin's eyes were sharp with interest, and Taekwoon met and held them as he gently pushed Leon aside to straddle Hongbin's legs. Both cats meowed their displeasure, but made themselves scarce from the humans. 

"Always feels weird when they're around," Hongbin said. "Like having sex in front of your kids."

Taekwoon wrinkled his nose—he wasn't particularly keen on the image, but Hongbin wasted no time in threading fingers through Taekwoon's hair and yanking him down, smothering him in a kiss that did not go unreciprocated. Rushed and messy and too much spit as Hongbin's tongue pushed into Taekwoon's mouth, and Taekwoon used too much teeth just for the sake of it.

They took their time, otherwise, with nowhere to go and nowhere to be, Hongbin openly loud as Taekwoon settled between his legs, tongue tracing against the swollen head of Hongbin's cock. It was fully dark by the time they were both sprawled on the floor, sated, Taekwoon kicking at Hongbin to grab tissues to wipe up, even though it would've made more sense to go straight to shower. It was lazy, unhurried, with the knowledge that they were both in sore need of that shower, but both feeling too lethargic to move the three meters down the hall.

Eventually, Taekwoon rolled onto his stomach, dragging himself to where they'd been sitting earlier. He fumbled in the dark for his cigarettes and lighter, with half a thought to the nowhere near burnt out one sitting in the ashtray. Hongbin's eyes narrowed slightly in judgement as Taekwoon flicked the lighter but he said nothing, even as his gaze followed Taekwoon's movements as he leaned back against the counter in the same manner he had earlier. It calmed his nerves, although Taekwoon wouldn't have been sure what nerves, if pressed, because a content cloud of drowsiness had wrapped itself snugly about him. Hongbin was right, smoking being bad for you, but something would kill you eventually and Taekwoon hadn't put too much thought towards living a long, fruitful life. It seemed too unlikely to put much thought to.

"Are you staying the night?" Taekwoon asked.

Hongbin shook his head, the motion dislodging bangs from his face. He pushed them aside anyway as he sat up. "I'll head home," he said. "You kick."

"I do not," Taekwoon said shortly, but the retort was rote and tried.

A half smile flitted about Hongbin's lips unseen in the dark, comforted by the easy familiarity of those words. "Better safe than sorry," Hongbin said with a chuckle.

Taekwoon glowered at him, but with Hongbin still turned half away, Taekwoon's display of displeasure went missed, even if Hongbin could feel the displeasure itself radiating towards him. Taekwoon drew a leg up, his knee pressed to his chest. He rested his arm on it, eyes drawn naturally to the sole light in the room, the dull orange glow at the end of his cigarette. His eyes traced its arc even as he brought it to his lips, tasting the heat of the inhale, watching as smoke obscured his vision on the exhale. The motion, repeated, until the cigarette was but a stub, and Taekwoon finally ground it out, next to the one already resting there, still barely smoked.

“You’re right,” Hongbin said suddenly. “I trust Chansik.”

The sudden admission drew a furrow between Taekwoon’s brows as he stared at Hongbin’s turned away profile through the dark.

“I guess I like flirting with danger.” Hongbin shrugged, and then there was the hint of a grin. “I’ve always wanted to live life on the edge.”

“You said it makes you feel alive,” Taekwoon said softly.

Hongbin jerked, a small movement. “Did I?” he said. “I guess I did.”

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said.

Hongbin laughed quietly, then drew his legs towards himself, crossing them.

“And Chansik trusts you?” Taekwoon asked, after several heartbeats.

Another small movement, not as small this time, but still slight enough that it could have been disguised as something else, something other than Hongbin’s restraint to not pivot, turn to face Taekwoon head on. Instead, it was replaced off-beat with a shrug.

“Yeah,” he said, then snorted in twisted laughter. “I know, right?”

“You’re not worried about…” Taekwoon trailed off, waving his hand to encompass the room, them. He wasn’t sure how to put it into words. “This?”

“Chansik’s an adult. He can take care of himself.” The reply came quickly, the soft sigh after it, less so. 

Hongbin stood, walking past Taekwoon whose eyes followed his movements with interest. His hand paused over the light switch but passed over it. The room was flooded from the light of the fridge instead.

Taekwoon listened as the fridge door closed, and then watched as Hongbin reemerged in his line of sight. He took the beer that was offered him, even though he wasn’t particularly wanting it. He opened it anyway, prying the lid open against his ring with a familiar pop. Hongbin settled down where he’d been, a fair enough distance away from where Taekwoon was sitting now, maybe just out of arm’s reach.

“What do you think about?” Hongbin suddenly asked. “When you do it.”

He was turned away again, as he had been. Enough so that his eyes couldn’t be seen, enough so that his eyes were turned halfway towards Taekwoon’s room, halfway towards the window, instead of at Taekwoon himself.

Taekwoon, who bore little reaction at those words, at least, outwardly. What did he think about?

“What do you think about when you do the thing with your numbers?” he asked Hongbin, in answer. He spoke after a long pause, after the words were fully formed and had tumbled themselves into smooth syllables inside his head, before he let them slide off his tongue.

Hongbin snorted. “Do you even know what I do?”

“Something with numbers,” Taekwoon said.

Hongbin looked like he wanted to laugh again, only this time, a much scarier laugh. He didn’t, though, because this was somewhat expected. He did, however, take a good swallow of his beer.

“I’m an accountant, what am I supposed to think about?” Hongbin said. “It’s boring. I just do it.”

“I just do it,” Taekwoon echoed. The smile he shot Hongbin was nearly smug, in the second and a half it took for Hongbin to understand that Taekwoon had just answered his question.

“That’s it?” Hongbin asked. “You just do it?”

“What did you want me to say?” Taekwoon asked.

The answer hovered between them—something deep, dark, about the balance of life and death, of weight, of guilt, of absolution of guilt. But Taekwoon’s answer was not a lie, and Hongbin could not bring himself to voice the answer to Taekwoon’s question.

“Whatever you wanted,” Hongbin said instead.

“Sure you don’t want to stay the night?”

Hongbin glanced down at the beer in his hand. “Nah. I’ll stick around for a bit though.”

“Whatever you want.”

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

``

  
**(08/27 22:37)**  
` drinks sometime`

 **(09/01 07:12)**  
` ok`

**(09/01 07:14)**  
` where and when!`

  
**(09/01 10:23)**  
` Tomorrow, that first place?`

  
**(09/01 10:24)**  
` Your place`

  
**(09/01 10:29)**  
` instead?`

 **(09/01 11:53)**  
` tomorrow night? ok ^^`

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

"Hi."

Taekwoon nodded awkwardly in greeting when the door opened. He hadn't seen Hakyeon in a while—not much time at all compared to a decade, but still it had been a while. Hakyeon looked tired, but then again, the police officer had been busy. Taekwoon held up a plastic bag in one hand.

"I brought chicken," he said. "And beer."

Hakyeon stared at him but ushered him in first. "I...had dinner?" he said.

"I was hungry," Taekwoon said, shrugging. He trailed after Hakyeon into the kitchen where he put the chicken on the table, and Hakyeon, bemused, put the beer in the fridge. The door to the fridge had barely closed when Hakyeon found himself pressed up against the wall, Taekwoon's broad frame blocking his path, Taekwoon's hand on his shoulder.

"Taek—?"

A look of discomfit passed over Taekwoon's face. "I..." he said, then trailed off.

Hakyeon's eyes were wide, a little wild, maybe, and perhaps Taekwoon's matched them, or perhaps they held a different meaning, equally steadfast. Taekwoon's grip on Hakyeon's shoulder was nearly bruising, strong enough that Hakyeon knew that if he'd tried, even he'd have trouble dislodging Taekwoon's grip. Hakyeon swallowed. Taekwoon stood there—loomed there, his face in shadow from the kitchen light above, and it only served to cast his dark eyes darker. Something in them made Hakyeon's heart catch in his chest—then Taekwoon, kissing him roughly, caught his heart and jerked it into his throat. Hakyeon's hands came up to grip at Taekwoon's shirt—one where if he pulled too hard, the buttons would come off. 

But Taekwoon had other ideas. Before Hakyeon could catch his breath, Taekwoon had dropped to his knees, the phantom touch of Taekwoon's tongue still pressed against Hakyeon's mouth. Hakyeon gasped, sharp, when Taekwoon nosed at Hakyeon's crotch, his breath hot and damp even through the fabric of Hakyeon's jeans.

"Taekwoon—"

Hakyeon's fingers curled lightly about Taekwoon's shoulders, broad and solid. He could feel them shift as Taekwoon's fingers came up, touch an extra sensation next to Taekwoon's mouth. Hakyeon jerked, fingers gripping a little too tight, a little too harsh and sudden but Taekwoon's fingers, long, slender, calloused, undoing the fastener of Hakyeon's jeans, sliding underneath Hakyeon's underwear—the sensation was a touch too much, and Hakyeon moaned, his own fingers digging even harder into Taekwoon's shoulders.

Taekwoon hummed at the sound, and that, pressed against the space just below Hakyeon's navel, sent fireworks skittering beneath his skin.

"God, Taekwoon, fuck—weren't you hungry—"

Taekwoon could have spent more time mouthing at Hakyeon's erection through his underwear, fingers playing directly against the shaft. He also could've spent more time sucking sharp marks along Hakyeon's hip bones, themselves so sharp, could've spent more time letting his fingers play along the inside of Hakyeon's thighs, where his skin was the softest, the most sensitive—he could have, but from the way Hakyeon was gripping at him, and the way his dick was straining in his briefs, Taekwoon figured if he continued, this would be over even sooner than he'd anticipated.

Taekwoon tugged Hakyeon's pants down to his thighs, underwear with it. The rush of cold air left Hakyeon gasping, his grip only tightening on Taekwoon's shoulders, where there would no doubt be imprints of bruises the next day. Hakyeon's dick was full and swollen, curving up to his stomach. It was familiar by now—not as familiar as Hongbin or Yixing because they had years on Hakyeon, but familiar enough that there was the comfortable sense of familiarity when Taekwoon caught the head of Hakyeon's cock in his mouth with just his lips. The touch sent Hakyeon keening, his legs going weak as he pushed against Taekwoon’s shoulder for support. Taekwoon steadied himself, gripping at Hakyeon's hips, pushing against the wall with one hand as he slowly took in more of Hakyeon's length until his cock hit the back of Taekwoon's throat. A strangled sound tore itself from Hakyeon's throat, his hips bucking forward. Taekwoon gagged, even with the thrust softened by Taekwoon pressing against Hakyeon's hip. He wrinkled his nose in irritation, letting his teeth scrape just a tiny bit against Hakyeon's cock as he pulled back.

Hakyeon's fingers scrabbled at Taekwoon's shoulder, one hand finding its way into Taekwoon's hair, tugging sharply at Taekwoon's scalp. Taekwoon made a sound of irritation and that only prompted Hakyeon to moan, hips arching upwards into Taekwoon's mouth. Taekwoon sucked hard, drawing out Hakyeon's noises, each one a satisfying reward for finding where Hakyeon liked his tongue, that Hakyeon liked when Taekwoon sucked just at the tip, that Hakyeon especially liked when Taekwoon sucked him off fast and rough like he had that first time, because it wasn't even a minute later that Hakyeon's fingers were tight in Taekwoon's hair, that Hakyeon's legs seemed to be trembling under Taekwoon's hands, but when Hakyeon stuttered a warning that he was about to come, Taekwoon only swallowed Hakyeon's cock, adam's apple bobbing as Hakyeon came jerkily into Taekwoon's mouth. Hakyeon moaned loudly, openly, the sound of his pleasure filling his all but empty apartment. Taekwoon milked those moans, those stuttering signatures, pressing his tongue against the underside of Hakyeon's cock, rough, as he bobbed up and down Hakyeon's length until he was whimpering from sensitivity. Hakyeon slowly sank down, his legs weak, back sliding down against the wall until he was at a height with Taekwoon who'd sat back on his haunches. Taekwoon's own erection was still tented in his pants, but for now, he let it be.

Taekwoon swallowed, the taste of Hakyeon lingering in his mouth. He brushed the back of his hand over his mouth wiping away trails of spit and cum, blinking at Hakyeon's reddening face.

"You, uh," Hakyeon stammered. His cheeks were still flushed, eyes still dark, and had the general languid air of someone who'd just had good sex. Taekwoon's tongue swiped against his lips, and Taekwoon smirked as Hakyeon distinctly swallowed, cock twitching.

"It's cleaner," Taekwoon said. He got up, stretching out his shoulders, rubbing at his jaw as he turned towards the table where the chicken, still warm, was waiting.

"Are you hungry?" Taekwoon asked Hakyeon.

Hakyeon stared at him, wide eyed, the very picture of 'are you crazy?' in his look. Fair enough, as Hakyeon was still slumped against the wall, pants pulled down to his knees, cock wet and soft between his legs. Hakyeon, unsurprisingly, decided to make himself decent before deigning that with an answer.

"I did have dinner already," Hakyeon said primly once he'd washed his hands. He'd glared at Taekwoon too until Taekwoon had washed his hands in the kitchen sink as well. Taekwoon seemed slightly down at that, but Hakyeon shook his head. "If you think you're getting all that chicken, Jung Taekwoon, you are wrong."

Taekwoon's head perked up at Hakyeon's declaration of claim over the chicken, his eyes immediately flashing.

"You said you weren’t hungry!" Taekwoon said.

"You brought enough for two, don't lie, I saw the box," Hakyeon said. To make his point, he snagged the box from the plastic bag, which sure enough held more chicken than a single person could eat. Unless, he supposed, that person was Jung Taekwoon, but Hakyeon wasn't going to consider that possibility.

"I could eat it all by myself," Taekwoon grumbled. Still, he trailed Hakyeon as the other man grabbed chopsticks and plates and dumped it onto the floor in front of the television.

"Grab the beer," Hakyeon told him. Taekwoon nodded and went back to the kitchen obligingly. The six he'd just brought were still cooling, but Hakyeon had a couple in reserve, as any sane person should do. He brought two back, snagging a bottle opener from the fridge as an afterthought. He couldn't remember what Hakyeon preferred.

"Thanks!" Hakyeon chirped. He took one of the proffered bottles and the bottle opener, immediately cracking it open. He handed the bottle opener back to Taekwoon, who put it down next to the chicken before sitting opposite of Hakyeon. The chicken smelled good. Taekwoon absentmindedly opened his bottle by prying at it with the edge of his ring.

They fell to eating; between the two of them, the meat disappeared frighteningly fast, but not, perhaps, unexpectedly fast. Taekwoon had never been one to leave food alone for long.

They were left with a plate of gnawed chicken bones, two half empty bottles of beer, and a lingering sense of discomfort that had trailed Taekwoon in through the door, a cloud that had billowed about him like a cape for the past three weeks. It had settled in the doorway, unobtrusive, while Taekwoon had sunk to his knees and sucked Hakyeon off, but had slowly crept across the living room floor while the two had eaten, and had now deposited itself firmly into Taekwoon's lap.

It was, in the end, Hakyeon who sent Taekwoon a soft, half hearted smile, while Taekwoon had wrapped both hands around his beer bottle, and was staring down at it.

"About last time," Hakyeon said. Taekwoon's head jerked up, his eyes a little too wide. "Can we just forget about it?"

"Forget about it?" Taekwoon echoed softly.

Hakyeon shrugged. "Nothing you said was wrong," Hakyeon said. His usual, playful tone was gone entirely, and his words were placidly adult. "So you sleep with other people. I was surprised, but..." Hakyeon's lips twisted into a wry smile. "That's your right. We're not...in that sort of relationship, so that's just what it is." Hakyeon shrugged, and Taekwoon couldn't quite read the expression in Hakyeon's eyes, corners crinkled in a smile, yet pulled downwards in concern.

"You're not mad?" Taekwoon asked, hesitantly.

Hakyeon barked in laughter, head thrown back. "Me? Mad? Especially after everything since you walked in through my door? Never," he said.

"Mm, I'm glad," Taekwoon said.

Hakyeon shuffled over, pushing aside the remains of their chicken meal, until he could sit side by side with Taekwoon. Taekwoon stiffened as he did so, but did not move nor pull away, and in seconds, there was barely enough space between them for a cat, and a cat was good at making itself small.

"So, if you want to forget about what happened, and continue, I don't mind," Hakyeon said softly. He smiled. "Maybe I'm not looking for a relationship either. Yet."

"We're not the same, Hakyeon," Taekwoon said. His voice was equally quiet. "Something like a relationship... it'd never work out."

"How do you know?" Hakyeon shot back. "Not...that I'm saying we should, it's just, the way you say it seems so definite."

Taekwoon shrugged. "We're different people," he said.

"Everyone's a different person," Hakyeon said.

Taekwoon nodded. He drained his beer, placed it down next to him. Then he turned to Hakyeon, disappearing that sliver of space. Hakyeon's eyes widened at the sudden decrease in distance, at Taekwoon abruptly staring into his eyes from a place so close that Hakyeon's eyes crossed. "We're different people," Taekwoon said. The words played across Hakyeon's cheeks on the exhale, and then there were hands about his arms, his waist, and a mouth on his as Taekwoon kissed him, straddling one of Hakyeon's legs. Taekwoon's still hard erection pressed against Hakyeon's side, and Hakyeon understood.

He kissed Taekwoon back, shifting them, then flipping them so Taekwoon was on his back. There was a moment when Hakyeon wasn't sure if he could, wasn't sure if Taekwoon would make it so it was Hakyeon on his back instead, but whether it was Hakyeon's superior police training or Taekwoon's accedence, Taekwoon lay on his back on the living room floor of Hakyeon's apartment, pinned down by Hakyeon's hands on Taekwoon's wrists. Taekwoon's lips curled into pleasure as he sat up enough to catch Hakyeon's lips in a kiss. Hakyeon moaned into the kiss, brushing hair away from their faces as he lowered them, his kiss gentler than Taekwoon's, soft lips and tongue and his knee grinding hard against Taekwoon's crotch. Taekwoon whined, hips bucking, thrusting against Hakyeon's leg, even as he let Hakyeon kiss him, touches feather soft. A far contrast from the way Hakyeon pressed roughly, dragged his leg down, letting his thigh rub against Taekwoon's dick through jeans as Hakyeon lay flat against Taekwoon. Taekwoon was a good bit longer in the leg, but that didn't mean they weren't of comparable height nonetheless. Hakyeon ground his leg against Taekwoon's crotch, eliciting low moans that Hakyeon eagerly lapped up and swallowed. He wondered if somewhere through the chicken, Hakyeon could still taste himself in Taekwoon's mouth, and so he explored Taekwoon's mouth thoroughly, just as Taekwoon had explored his. Taekwoon, meanwhile, had lost the coherency to kiss back hard, was content with Hakyeon's lazy kisses, was content with Hakyeon rubbing friction against his cock, constant, heady pressure that kept him on the verge of coming, on the verge of coming, on the— Taekwoon came with a small, swallowed cry, spilling into his pants, tension seeping from his skin as light seemed to flitter beneath it, before dissipating, slowly, gradually, returning his senses to him.

Taekwoon sighed, sated. Hakyeon rolled off and lay next to him. Their breathing evened, they weren't quite touching.

"We're different people," Taekwoon repeated.

"That doesn't matter," Hakyeon said.

"I... After you left, you left," Taekwoon said. There was a redundancy there, but it was a truth. After Hakyeon had left the town, he'd left Taekwoon's life. The statement brought a frown to Hakyeon's face.

"I texted you, Taekwoonie. I emailed you. You never replied," he said. "I thought maybe you just never wanted to see me again."

Taekwoon made a sound of ambivalence, neither yes nor no. "Text, email…” Taekwoon let out a quiet breath. “You left. You weren't going to come back. I wasn't going to move to where you were. It was useless."

"We could've kept in touch," Hakyeon said. "Met up, visited."

"That's why I said. We're different people."

"I don't understand what that has to do with anything."

Taekwoon laughed, the sound dry, a little bitter. "No," he said. "You don't. Because you left. You...when I needed you the most. You..."

The admission tore at him, the words unexpected. He hadn't expected them. Hadn't been planning them. Hadn't been _thinking_ them but. When Taekwoon had needed Hakyeon the most. Hakyeon had left. Hakyeon had left, leaving behind platitudes like text messages. Useless gestures.

"You left," Taekwoon said again.

"I know," Hakyeon said. There was a hint of frustration there. "It wasn't my choice, okay? I didn't realise you were so...look, let's not talk about this now?"

Taekwoon took a deep breath, and let out a deep sigh, and then nodded. "I know it wasn't your fault," he said softly. "But that doesn't change that I...you left."

"You needed me," Hakyeon repeated. His tone was nearly reverent. Hesitant. Sad. "I..." he trailed off, perhaps because to say 'I didn't know' would've been a lie, but to say anything else would have been an admission that Taekwoon was grasping for. Although, it was a question in and of itself what answer Taekwoon wished for the most. Hakyeon provided no answer.

"It was a long time ago," Hakyeon said. "I don't remember it very well. Still, if you'd replied to my texts, we could've visited each other."

Taekwoon laughed, dry. "It wouldn't have done any good," he said. "You left." The sole person who Taekwoon had trusted, even more than the ahjussi who assured him he'd never get caught delivering drugs because no one would hurt a kid, even more than his older sister who assured Taekwoon that everything would be okay in the end, even more than the teachers who would show up, sometimes, at his uncle's house... Even more. And then, when he'd needed him most, that person hadn't been there.

Taekwoon sighed and shook his head. It was a lesson to be learned, that no one ever had your back, that you would only be betrayed by those you would trust, that the only person you could trust was yourself. If you could trust even that.

"It was a long time ago," Hakyeon repeated. "Can we...put it behind us for now?"

With a final jerk at his core, Taekwoon nodded, burying those decade old memories back where they should never have resurfaced again.

"Good," Hakyeon said. He sighed with genuine relief, reaching across the small space between them to hold Taekwoon's wrist, thumb rubbing lightly against his forearm. It tickled, and Taekwoon struggled not to draw away. The motion was too tender.

"Do you still need me?" Hakyeon teased.

Taekwoon huffed. "I haven't needed you since then," he said.

"Mm. It wouldn't be bad to hear that you still needed me," Hakyeon said. "Like a line from a drama, I'd feel like the hero."

"Isn't it usually the hero who tells the heroine that he needs her?" Taekwoon said without thinking. He clamped his mouth shut immediately. "Not that... I watch...those kinds of dramas..." He didn't. Not really. Just when Wonsik wanted to or something. Or when he was really bored. And sometimes Hongbin got in one of his moods. Taekwoon sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Cute,” Hakyeon said. He dodged Taekwoon’s swipe at his arm, laughing at Taekwoon’s huff of annoyance.

“But…” Hakyeon paused. “I really… I really am sorry,” he said. His voice had lost its playful lilt, had dropped into something quiet, with the faintest undercurrent of regret.

“What for?” Taekwoon frowned.

“I...leaving, I mean.” Hakyeon laughed, the sound shaky and dry. “I know—it wasn’t my choice! But... I’m still sorry. I really wish…”

“Hakyeon.” Taekwoon’s voice interrupted Hakyeon’s trailing words.

“Mm?”

“There was...another. After you left.” Taekwoon swallowed. He closed his eyes.

“Another?” Hakyeon’s voice was confused, clouding about him.

Taekwoon nodded, a small motion, lying down as he was. “Murder,” he said. The word seemed to choke on his tongue. A pause, and then: “your parents weren’t wrong.”

Hakyeon laughed, this time, a tinge of sadness. “I guess,” he said. He sighed, heavily. “I...Taekwoon, I know you said you don’t need me anymore, but if you ever do…”

“That’s not what I said,” Taekwoon said flatly. 

“Okay, okay, you know what I mean,” Hakyeon said quickly to placate him. “But...I’m here. If you do. You can call or text or...I’ll always reply. If you ever…”

Hakyeon’s words were halting, hesitant, and Taekwoon cracked an eye open. Hakyeon had sat up, but he wasn’t looking at Taekwoon, or to Taekwoon, but instead, at the same ceiling that Taekwoon was looking at. As if feeling Taekwoon’s eyes, Hakyeon turned, smiling sheepishly when he caught Taekwoon’s glance.

“What I’m saying is that even if it’s been years, you’re still my friend,” Hakyeon said brightly. “Even if we’re different people, you’re still my friend.”

Taekwoon swallowed, but he was unable to look away. He sat up, slowly, and nodded as if compelled. 

“Friends actually reply to texts,” Hakyeon warned him sharply. “So you better!”

“Who said I’m your friend,” Taekwoon replied. Hakyeon hit him in mock outrage, and Taekwoon couldn’t help the small breath of laughter as he kicked him back. Joking, joking, joke.

“Well you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not,” Hakyeon huffed.

A strange feeling settled in Taekwoon’s gut, warm and heavy all at the same time. He nodded, and wasn’t sure if he felt flushed from embarrassment, or something far more base.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

Wonsik keyed in his entry code, yawning as he pushed in through the door. He’d actually gone into the office today, had a meeting about that new project they were putting him on the back end for. His laptop bag slid onto the floor, and Wonsik blearily closed the door behind him. Maybe he should think about investing in a coffee machine. Then again, it was well past ten at night. Sleep was probably the better answer.

When he switched on the light, he was not expecting to see someone sitting in the middle of his living room floor, legs hugged to his chest.

“Shit—what the— _Taekwoon_!?”

Taekwoon blinked, blinded by the sudden light. He held up a familiar looking access chip and Wonsik understood. “You have the same model,” Taekwoon said. His voice, as always, was soft, but there was something about it that made it melt into the darkness that had just disappeared. Taekwoon got to his feet, stiff, while Wonsik walked into his apartment, a wry smile on his face.

“Maybe I should add a physical lock,” Wonsik said, taking back the access chip. 

Taekwoon seemed pale, but maybe it was just Wonsik’s imagination. He went back to grab his bag so he could toss it into the kitchen, his pseudo home office. “You want anything to drink?” he asked.

Taekwoon shook his head. “I used your shower,” he said.

Wonsik frowned—not because Taekwoon had taken a shower, but because the statement seemed...odd, somehow.

“I...hope it’s alright,” Taekwoon said. Hesitant. He was hesitant, afraid? “I’ll return your clothes, after I wash it.”

Ah, so that’s why the shirt and sweatpants Taekwoon had been wearing looked familiar.

Wonsik closed the fridge door, retrieving two water bottles. He knew Taekwoon had said he hadn’t wanted anything, but he handed it to him anyway as he walked over to him. 

Taekwoon took the water bottle, stared at it for a moment, and then twisted the cap off. He hadn’t realised how thirsty he was until he drank—he downed half the bottle at once. Wonsik was staring at him oddly, and Taekwoon couldn’t blame him. He would have been pretty sketched out if he’d come home to an acquaintance sitting in his living room, wearing his clothes. More than sketched out, actually, since exactly one person knew where he lived, and that was Hongbin. If Wonsik knew that Taekwoon’s own, blood splattered clothes were folded and stuffed into his bag...Taekwoon could only hope that Wonsik wouldn’t find out.

He sighed, a quick breath. Wonsik was dressed neatly, albeit still wearing jeans. Taekwoon knew that he worked as a programmer, and usually he worked from home. He hadn’t thought about what if Wonsik had been home, as usual. Then again, Taekwoon hadn’t really thought. Just gone to the nearest place he could think of, and thank the heavens that he’d been wearing black.

“I...I should go,” Taekwoon said. He said it, but the plastic water bottle was crumpling under his fist. Taekwoon shook his head, to himself, then glanced up at Wonsik. “But I need—I’d like to blow off some steam.”

“Sure,” Wonsik said easily. “Just let me go change, yeah?”

Taekwoon nodded, downing the rest of the water while Wonsik disappeared into his bedroom. He hadn’t turned on the light since he’d entered—there’d been enough residual light from outside at the time, and Taekwoon had gotten used to picking up shapes in the dark. His eyes had adjusted quickly. He was always amused by how little Wonsik’s apartment seemed to change. Perhaps the better way to put it was that because it was always changing in small ways, it never seemed to change. Things tossed into corners, pushed aside, recording equipment, extra laptops, all seemed to change places so often that the end result was an easy, constant, never changing blur. It was comforting, in many ways. The stasis. That the only changes that had happened in here in the years since Taekwoon had known Wonsik had been changes that Wonsik himself had decided—but then again, that was the same with Taekwoon’s own apartment. Even if Choco moving in a year ago had been a little less expected, it was still Taekwoon’s own choice. Homes were their own little worlds, their own little bubbles, the places that were under their control.

It was barely a minute before Wonsik returned, an easy smile on his face as he stretched out stiff muscles.

“Can’t say this was in my plans for tonight, but it’ll be good to move around after sitting still all day,” Wonsik said.

Taekwoon’s lips lifted in a slight smile. He’d been doing anything but sitting around all day.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Hey, it’s nothing to thank me for,” Wonsik said. He frowned, but shook it away as he sank into a defensive stance. Taekwoon mirrored it, and smiled.

It was familiar, just like Wonsik’s apartment was familiar. Taekwoon couldn’t remember how this had started, maybe a chance remark, but he treasured the chance to spar for fun, not for his life. Like a dance, almost, only the steps changing each time. Nothing about it was soft, but nor was it sharp.

Not like earlier in the night.

It’d been a simple job. Maybe too simple. Some small time drug pusher getting a bit too bold. The kid was keeping an eye out for cops, but not for Taekwoon. Maybe he should’ve. One of the first things that Taekwoon had learned was to trust his instincts, and his instincts would’ve told him that Taekwoon was too focussed, too careful, too sharp to have been just a passer by, or to have been there to meet the kid. Kid. He’d probably been as old as Taekwoon, if not older. 

Hadn’t helped. 

Simple job, should’ve been. Envelope on his desk—the fucker had always had a flair for the dramatic—name, photo, a few details. The usual. Not like the one of Park Soohyun. That had had far too much detail. No, all Taekwoon had to do was kill the guy, get out, and not get caught.

He’d done that. Just not the way he’d meant to.

It’d been familiar, too familiar: strangled screams that should’ve been heard, but if they had been, they had gone unheeded, a rib giving way, cracking under his elbow, driven forward, flesh caving, far softer than it had a right to be.

In the end, he hadn’t even used the knife he’d brought. Hadn’t needed to, when he’d smashed in the man’s throat, slammed his head against—

“Taekwoon! Shit—what—”

Taekwoon froze, jerking back, stumbled away, landed heavily on the floor as he stared up at Wonsik, finally registering that it’d been Wonsik screaming at him, shoving him away. Wonsik, a dark bruise forming on his face, lip split, and Taekwoon recognised the way he held himself, the small hitches of movement, the way Wonsik’s hand came tentatively up to his neck.

“I…”

The apology froze on Taekwoon’s tongue. He didn’t know how to apologise. He unclenched his fists, hadn’t even realised his hands had formed into fists. The rush through his veins, nerves, died down, flooded away, leaving only a horrible, sinking hollow in his chest, at the back of his throat. There was real fear in Wonsik’s eyes. Even if he tried to hide it.

Taekwoon had seen that fear before. Just never here.

“I...Sorry. I’m so...shit, Wonsik, I…” the words fell out, jumbled. As if Taekwoon didn’t know how to apologise, so his unconscious was doing it for him, and doing a poor job of it. Faintly, he registered the fear in Wonsik’s eyes dim, although it still remained, washed over by confusion, by question.

“What the hell came over you—it was like you were…” Wonsik trailed off, even though it’d been spoken mostly to himself in the first place. He winced, clearly, with every movement. Taekwoon bit down hard at his lip, willing himself to draw blood.

“I’m…”

“Yeah, I know, you’re sorry,” Wonsik said.

The truth was, if it’d been anyone else, Wonsik probably would have sent them packing out the door. Hell, he’d been half convinced in that moment that Taekwoon was going to kill him. His eyes—that’d been the thing. None of that usual curiosity, the quick flashes of amusement or irritation, the small changes that gave away his movements. Just a hard, blank stare.

He knew that Taekwoon didn’t work on the right side of the law and had never wanted to know more—now, he wanted to know even less.

Wonsik took a deep breath. Even that hurt. Forcing a smile on his face, that hurt even more, because Taekwoon had gotten him good in the jaw.

Taekwoon looked pathetic. Like a kid waiting to be hit, or a dog that’d been kicked one too many times. His head was bowed, legs not quite crossed, eyes unable to meet Wonsik’s. Wonsik didn’t blame him. 

“I get it, you’re sorry,” Wonsik said. The irony that he was trying to comfort the man who’d been beating the shit out of him moments earlier didn’t escape him. “No real harm done, nothing broken—looks like I need to stay sharper.” Wonsik chuckled drily. “That was pretty embarrassing. Seems like I’m no match for you going all out.”

An awkward silence fell with Wonsik’s words, and he stood, unsure of what to do.

“I hurt you,” Taekwoon said. There was force behind those words, a lot of force, even though it seemed like he still couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice. “I could’ve really hurt you.”

“Hey, I trust you alright? C’mon, you think I’d do this with you ever if I didn’t?” Wonsik crouched down in front of Taekwoon.

“If you hadn’t stopped me, I…”

“You would’ve stopped yourself,” Wonsik said.

Taekwoon looked up, met Wonsik’s eyes. If Wonsik’s gaze wavered, betrayed the slight doubt behind those words, Taekwoon did not comment on it. 

“Trust is a dangerous game to play,” Taekwoon said softly. They were an echo of Hongbin’s words, although Wonsik could not have known that. Instead he frowned, taken aback and unsure, yet at the same time feeling like he’d been given a glimpse into something private.

Wonsik shrugged. “Hey, shit happens. It’s fine. My fault for not being prepared—told you it was kind of embarrassing. Although, if you could grab me some ice—”

Taekwoon had jumped to his feet before Wonsik had finished talking, and Wonsik watched amused at how Taekwoon hurried back, still at a walk, but a frantic one.

“Thanks,” Wonsik said. He pressed the ice pack gratefully against his face, wincing.

“I’m really sorry,” Taekwoon said. He stood, hovering awkwardly. Wonsik waved for him to sit. Taekwoon did, looking like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “You’re all...hurt.”

Wonsik chuckled at that assessment. He couldn’t deny it. It was a good thing he worked from home, most days, or he’d have a hard time explaining the black eye or any of the other bruises he was sure would be forming.

“Yeah, that tends to happen when you get hit,” Wonsik said lightly. He laughed, even if Taekwoon didn’t.

"Sorry," Taekwoon said again.

"It's alright, yeah? It was an accident—it was one, right?"

Taekwoon let out a strangled laugh at Wonsik's face, and nodded.

"Then good. That's all I needed to know." Wonsik chuckled, shifting the ice pack. "Remind me to never get onto your bad side."

"Never." Taekwoon spoke more vehemently than he'd meant to, and looked a bit taken aback when he realised.

"Makes me feel better to know I have you watching my back," Wonsik said.

Taekwoon shifted, lip caught between his teeth. "Yeah," he said quietly. 

"Hey, anyway—I'm gonna shower first, but feel free to make yourself at home, wash up again if you want to," Wonsik said.

Taekwoon nodded silently.

He waited until he could hear the water running in the shower before he grabbed his bag. A second, and then Taekwoon was gone. 

Because he was a fucking coward.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

"It's getting cold."

Yixing was waiting on the balcony when Taekwoon entered his apartment. The door had been unlocked, as Yixing had said it would be. Taekwoon took off his shoes, padding across Yixing's apartment in socked feet. He paused at the entrance to the balcony, before peeling his socks off and tossing them onto the floor behind him. The cool feel of concrete against his skin was familiar.

Taekwoon hadn't bothered turning the lights on, and neither had Yixing. Perhaps he'd simply been outside since the sun had still not set, since there had been no need for lights yet. It was hard to say.

Taekwoon joined Yixing at the railing. Despite the other man's comment, he was wearing a thin black tank top, although paired with a pair of jeans. At Taekwoon's approach, Yixing half turned and held out a single cigarette.

"Smoking's bad for you," Taekwoon said. He took it anyway, smiling at the adorable confusion on Yixing's face as he tried to puzzle out the meaning behind Taekwoon's words. Taekwoon laughed and shook his head, to say that there'd been no meaning behind them. He placed the cigarette between his lips then leaned in towards Yixing—Yixing lit it with his own cigarette, the tips of them touching, Yixing's exhale matching Taekwoon's inhale, a breath passed through a collapsed space. Taekwoon breathed in the hot air with a sense akin to relief as he pulled away from Yixing to lean against the railing, arms resting against it.

"Something kills us in the end," Taekwoon said. It was an explanation, and again, confusion washed across Yixing's features for a moment and a half too long before he connected it to Taekwoon's previous words.

"Might as well go out doing what you enjoy," Yixing said. Taekwoon nodded in agreement. Yixing shrugged, tilted his head. "Better than the alternative."

"What alternative?"

Yixing considered this a moment, head tilted just a fraction. "Any of them," he said eventually. "I guess none of them are pleasant."

"Hmm."

Smoke filled the air like an old companion and perhaps that was exactly what it was. Far older a companion than the man beside him, that was for sure.

"Have you ever tried to quit?" Taekwoon asked.

Yixing blinked, then shook his head. "Is there a point?"

"No," Taekwoon said.

"Like you said, something kills us in the end, right?" Yixing said. "Although I guess I never thought about it like that. I never really thought about it before."

Taekwoon watched as Yixing brought the cigarette to his lips as he spoke, as it sat there, perched, hovering, not quite touching. Feeling Taekwoon's eyes on him, Yixing glanced towards him as he took a deep pull, before letting the cloud of smoke blow towards Taekwoon's direction. Taekwoon blinked, a small grimace of irritation sparking the glint of amusement in Yixing's eyes. To do the same would be incredibly childish, so Taekwoon turned stubbornly towards the city as he smoked.

“Summer’s ending,” Yixing said.

“It’s already over,” Taekwoon said. “It’s been a long one.”

“Mmm, has it?” Yixing said. “It didn’t feel very long.”

“It got hot early,” Taekwoon said.

“I suppose,” Yixing said, “but it still didn’t feel very long. Maybe I’m just not ready for summer to be over.”

“You like summer?”

“A little,” Yixing said. He shrugged, worrying at the cigarette for a moment between his lips. “I don’t like fall.”

“I like it,” Taekwoon said. “It’s not as hot.”

“It has been hot,” Yixing agreed. “It’s getting cold, now.”

“You said that,” Taekwoon said.

Yixing nodded. “I don’t like fall,” he repeated as well. “It’s when all the green goes away.”

“Do you like winter?”

“I don’t know,” Yixing said. “I don’t dislike it?”

“Fall is when things die, isn’t it,” Taekwoon said quietly. He glanced at Yixing, feeling the sharp stare that had turned abruptly onto him. His lip curled in a small smile when he met Yixing’s eyes. “Why you don’t like fall.”

Yixing laughed, the sound harsh and soft. “It’s a sad season,” he said.

“My birthday,” Taekwoon said. He paused, as abrupt a pause as his words had been spoken. “It’s in the fall.”

Yixing blinked, then smiled. He breathed in, the sound as loud as the exhale that followed. “Me too,” he said. The words were murmured against his cigarette, as they dissipated into the air with the cloud of smoke.

Taekwoon nodded. He tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette before he brought it up to his lips, elbow propped against the railing. 

"I was a little surprised when you texted," Yixing said. Taekwoon glanced at him sharply, puzzled. "I guess because I've been feeling a little lonely."

Taekwoon nodded silently. So Yixing would have called him over, sooner or later, is what he was saying.

"I know I said...I don't like talking about gloomy things," Yixing said, and then laughed, quietly. Ash had built up on the end of his cigarette, and he tapped away at it. "I remembered something, though. He gave us one warning: once you sink, you'll never resurface. We didn't get it, then."

Taekwoon nodded, again, still silent. There wasn't much he could say. There wasn't anything he needed to say.

"I said it was for money, it was just for a bit...but, that's not really true." Yixing smiled at this, all these hints of lightness playing about these words that he himself had deemed to be gloomy. "I didn't have to, after the military, I think I could have found something else if I wanted to. But maybe I just wanted to live freely like him? And then things turned out the way they did, and he said, he wanted out. Wanted out for all of us. I'm not like him. I'm not smart, I can't...follow my feelings like he could. Although, in the end…"

Yixing sighed, watching as his cigarette burned away. His thoughts were scattered, words tossed, characters from a story years past, hurled into a jumble—the uncle who'd brought them in, the friend lost to him, the friend lost to himself. Taekwoon knew, in a way, that they were different 'hes', different 'hims', but to Taekwoon, they had all blurred into one.

"You said that before. An out," Taekwoon said.

Yixing nodded. "I guess he found one, in the end," he said softly. "Sometimes I wonder if that's the only one." He paused. "You said there wasn't one."

"I don't think there is."

He ground out the stub of the cigarette, leaving only a single spot of light, dim and distant from Yixing's own face. It lit Taekwoon's, full of blunted shadows. Yixing stilled at Taekwoon's words then nodded in agreement.

"So all I could do was work hard," Yixing said. "Working hard for the wrong things. But even though I knew that, I kept doing it, because otherwise, I really would sink. Since we can't change the things we've done, and we can only move forward. And...what's the meaning of everything we did, if we didn't reach the top? Although I can't tell anymore if those were his...their...thoughts or mine."

"Don't think too much," Taekwoon said. "It complicates things."

"No, things are already complicated," Yixing said. "It's difficult to understand complicated things. I told you, I'm not smart enough for that. I only know how to work hard."

Taekwoon's own cigarette had slowly burnt away when he hadn't noticed. Burned away by Yixing's words, slow and stumbling. He took one last useless pull, and then reached over Yixing to stub it out. But he didn't straighten, not entirely, instead hooking fingers through Yixing's belt loops, other hand pressed against Yixing's back as he caught him in a kiss.

People like them, Taekwoon knew, would always stand just to the left of the light, for they would otherwise be swallowed by the darkness, or washed away into broken shards of shadow.

Yixing melted against the kiss, letting Taekwoon do the work, letting Taekwoon suck against his lips, letting Taekwoon lick into his mouth, strangely soft, strangely gentle. His hands worked their way around Taekwoon's waist, pressed against his lower back. Yixing had been right—it was getting colder, and the breeze skittered across what skin they had bared, Yixing's shoulders, Taekwoon's arms. Taekwoon kissed him fiercely, barely a moment's rest as if he were trying to kiss away all of Yixing's thoughts, and Yixing was content to lean into it, to reciprocate with teasing lips, light flicks of his tongue against Taekwoon's mouth, the barest catch of Taekwoon's tongue with his.

The only light now was from shuttered windows of neighbours, from streetlights too dim and too far to push away the shadows on this balcony, suspended above the world. Yixing's hands slid down, enough to hook fingers through the belt loops of Taekwoon's jeans, yanking their bodies closer. Taekwoon moaned into Yixing's mouth at the movement, his crotch grinding up against Yixing, touch rough through denim. Small sparks skittered over Taekwoon's skin, spreading from the base of his stomach to stretch across his body. The kiss grew sloppy, wetter, catching Yixing's sounds in his mouth so they weren't heard by the city night. Taekwoon rutted up against Yixing, fingers digging into the other man's back as Yixing rolled his hips, pushing his own crotch against Taekwoon's thigh, the same movement sending a rush of nerves through Taekwoon's blood.

It was only the threat of eyes on them that kept Taekwoon from whining louder, as he pushed harder, faster, against Yixing, his erection hardening in the too tight confines of his jeans, but fuck if it didn't feel good. Yixing was hard against him too, and Taekwoon hooked a leg around Yixing's, turning them so he had Yixing pressed against the railing, so he could grind his thigh against Yixing's crotch, until the other man was panting in heavy breaths, hands clutching at Taekwoon's arms. Taekwoon kissed into his mouth, pressing himself up against Yixing. He swallowed, breath hitched—Yixing thrusting up against him, the roll of his hips dragging torturously slow. Heat coiled low within him, and Taekwoon fueled it, let it build, grinding against Yixing.

Yixing's hands pressed against Taekwoon's back, his neck, and a few fumbled steps later, it was Taekwoon with his back against the railing, Yixing positioning them so their crotches, dicks hard, pressed against each other. Taekwoon couldn't help the low moan, head arching back, fists clenched around the railing as Yixing ground up against him. Taekwoon could feel Yixing's hands gripping his hips, but too much of himself was tied up in swallowing his sounds, his vision white behind his eyelids, as Yixing dragged out his orgasm, one agonisingly slow touch at a time.

Taekwoon was still breathing hard when Yixing suddenly picked up the pace, grinding roughly against Taekwoon's still sensitive cock. Taekwoon keened, loud, at the touch, all thoughts of possible onlookers gone, eyes squeezing shut. Yixing's fingers dug into Taekwoon's hips as he came, stuttering, catching Taekwoon's sounds in his mouth, a sloppy, sloppy kiss as he rutted up against Taekwoon, tell-tale damp.

There was the sound of a balcony door closing—Taekwoon's knees went abruptly weak with mortification, and he dropped down to the balcony floor, taking Yixing—who'd been leaning against him—down with him. Yixing let out a oof of surprise, and then a small note of laughter as he registered what had been the cause. Taekwoon covered his face with one arm.

"They heard you," Yixing said, needlessly. He pulled Taekwoon's arm away, pressed a soft kiss against his mouth, and then another, and another, until Taekwoon's eyes sheepishly opened.

"I don't live here," Taekwoon said. 

Yixing just shrugged, once he'd rolled off to the side to sit next to Taekwoon, leaning against the balcony railing. He stretched his legs out in front of him, his shoulder just brushing against Taekwoon's.

"It could've been anyone," Yixing said, and then: "you have a pretty voice."

Taekwoon could feel his ears turn bright red. "I hate you," he said.

"Really?" Yixing grinned, teasing and playful, and Taekwoon reluctantly shook his head.

He leaned back against the railing, head resting between two bars, eyes falling lightly shut. In the darkness, it was easy to hear his own heart beating loud in his chest, in an off rhythm with the breaths beside him.

"Do you want to shower first?"

"Mmm."

Neither of them moved, however, not even the barest sound of someone shifting. Just the sound of their breathing, slowly evening, slowly calming into steady, regular beats. Whether it was intentional or unconscious, those two sounds matched up, until they were left with measured intervals of silence. 

"We really are selfish. I mean, humans—humans really are selfish." Yixing spoke, hesitant at first, before his words fell into their usual rhythm.

Taekwoon's eyes had fallen closed, and he made a small sound at the back of his throat.

"Do we have to talk about this now?" he asked. There was a slight grumble in his voice.

"Mmmm. I want to talk about this now?" Yixing said. Even with his eyes closed, Taekwoon could sense that small tilt of Yixing's head, when he was puzzling over something that ought to have been obvious. There was a pause, as he thought, and then another, as he frowned and tried to validate his own words, before he shrugged. "I can only talk about these things to you." Another pause. "I mean, you're the only person I talk to about these things."

Taekwoon wasn't sure of the difference.

"A philosopher," he finally said.

Yixing chuckled. "No, I don't want a philosopher. They'd say things too complicated to understand."

"What do you want?"

"Mm. I guess, you?" Yixing pursed his lips. "I like talking to you."

Taekwoon paused, frowned. "Maybe you need a therapist," he said.

Yixing burst out laughing at that, loud, too loud, and he clapped his hands over his mouth when he realised but even so he continued to laugh silently. Taekwoon made a face at him—what was there so much to laugh over? 

Several long seconds passed before Yixing's laughter subsided into light giggles. "There's no therapist in the world who'd want to talk to me," he finally said. He shook his head and when he looked towards Taekwoon, his mirth had melted away, deep into the background. "That's not what I want, either."

Taekwoon curled in on himself, knees pulled against his chest, arms coming about instinctively to wrap about his legs. He leaned forward, chin resting against his knees, staring into the blackness of Yixing's apartment.

"I guess," Taekwoon said, then brought himself to an abrupt pause. Yixing's gaze lingered on him expectantly, and Taekwoon shook his head, as if to shake it off. "I guess I don't mind. As long as I don't have to talk back."

"I never said you did," Yixing said, placid. "Didn't you say, you're not a philosopher or a therapist?"

Taekwoon frowned at those words, bringing his arms up, letting his chin rest in the crooks of his elbows instead. "I didn't say that."

"Then you are?" Yixing's voice was full of laughter.

Taekwoon scoffed. "No."

The sounds of life drifted up to the balcony, taking the place of where light should have been. Yixing hummed quietly to himself, melodies that Taekwoon wasn't familiar with, melodies that Taekwoon had never heard. His fingers tapped lightly against his knees, and Taekwoon's eyes focussed on them. They might've been called beautiful had faint scars not marred his skin, or the callouses thick and tell tale. 

Taekwoon had a sudden thought and he lifted his head, eyes narrowed towards Yixing.

"...So this is why you keep calling me over."

"Hm?" Yixing glanced sideways at him, blinked, squinted, and then the corners of his lips curled into a pleased smirk. "Well," he said, drawing out the syllables, "also because you're hot, and also because you give great head?"

Taekwoon spluttered, his face dropping against his knees.

Yixing giggled softly, pulling his legs up to his chest in a mirror to Taekwoon.

"Do you know why I said, I want to talk about this now?" Yixing paused. "Oh, I said you didn't have to talk. Afterwards, like now, you're easier to talk to. Or maybe it's easier for me to talk? There isn't a real difference, right?"

Taekwoon shook his head, then shrugged.

"Mm. I guess not. But...humans are selfish. We just want to live."

"You said that before."

"I know," Yixing said. "Everything we do, it's to live. There isn't a person who isn't chasing their own desires."

"But not everyone wants to live."

Yixing paused, mulling over the words, head cocked just to the side. “But even then, it's to do what they want, isn't it?” He nodded to himself. “In the end, maybe it's better to say that."

"It's the same," Taekwoon said, frowning. "Anything that's alive."

"I know. Cats, dogs, bugs, plants...Otherwise, we'd have died out," Yixing said. He sighed, dropping his head like Taekwoon had done earlier, turning so it was his cheek that rested against his arms instead, his eyes focussed on some point past Taekwoon's profile. 

Taekwoon leaned back against the railing again, the metal warming from his continued touch. 

"Sometimes," Yixing said softly, "I wonder what makes someone a friend."

Taekwoon froze, breath catching in his throat as he stared at Yixing. But Yixing seemed to be speaking to himself, his eyes never wavering from that distant point. 

"Someone you like, right? That's the first part. But, there's not many people I dislike. Are they all my friends? That doesn't make sense."

"Trust is a dangerous thing," Taekwoon said. He wasn't sure why, these words of Hongbin's, repeated in his mind until they seemed more ready to tumble out than to stick, and yet, they kept tumbling back. 

Yixing hummed, a consideration. "Maybe," he said. "Trust. But I think, even if I’d known then what would happen, I still would. I’d rather trust my friends than to worry about what will happen if they turn on me.”

“But that's not something friends do.”

“I don’t know,” Yixing said. He shrugged. “Not anymore. Maybe that's why. Why I'm talking about this now, I mean.”

"Now?"

"Yeah. Ah. Well, it happened a long time ago, but…I said, I used to trust people. But I don't know anymore. I don't know if that's right of me. But it's normal, right?” Yixing paused. “Humans are selfish. It only makes sense we want to protect ourselves. And I'm the same. You're the same."

"I am human," Taekwoon said wryly.

Yixing’s eyes flickered towards Taekwoon's face. "...That's not what I meant," he said.

Taekwoon shrugged. Perhaps he knew what Yixing meant, perhaps he didn't.

"But we're not animals," Taekwoon said. "We're different from animals."

It was Yixing's turn to sit up and stare at him. "Somehow...that's not what I thought you would say," he said. When Taekwoon frowned at him, Yixing shrugged. "You seem like the sort to say that humans and animals are the same."

"Why?"

"Well, you're…" Yixing gestured vaguely with his hands, encompassing the entirety of Taekwoon. Taekwoon shifted, uncomfortable with what he thought Yixing meant. 

"Your friend," Taekwoon said abruptly. Yixing tensed, the motion—or perhaps the lack of it—obvious, as if the air itself had frozen about him. "I...looked," he said. "In the news. From over two years ago."

There was a dry laugh and Yixing seemed to relax against the railing again, seemed to sink into it. "Did you now."

"I didn't find anything, though," Taekwoon said softly.

"How could you have?" Yixing said. His voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper. "He didn't even exist. Not legally."

Silence trailed after his words as if a hush had passed over the city itself, that moment of quiet in a crowded room, unexpected, sudden. It stayed like a cloud, like a fog low in a valley.

"What was he like?" Taekwoon asked.

"Why do you want to know?"

Taekwoon shrugged, wrapped his arms a little tighter around his legs. "I thought, maybe, a picture," he said, awkward.

"I...don't think I even have one," Yixing said after a moment. "Maybe when we were kids, somewhere."

"Kids," Taekwoon repeated. "You grew up together."

"Mmm."

Another silence, another long pause. Their conversation had meandered in such a way, breaths like empty pages scattered between their words. Without knowing, the minutes had become hours, and the night had deepened into true darkness.

“A friend,” Yixing suddenly said, “is someone I would fight for to the end.” He sighed, glanced at Taekwoon, formed a half smile. “It’s getting late.”

"Not too late."

"You should stay," Yixing said, but they were words said out of habit. "Until morning, I mean."

Taekwoon hummed. His eyes were closed. They had been, for some time.

"Alright," Taekwoon said.

A sudden movement, a sharp movement, Yixing's face a picture of surprise, and then a delighted smile.

"I'm glad the sheets are clean," Yixing said.

Taekwoon laughed. "Is that a challenge?"

Yixing laughed as well. He stood, stretching stiff muscles. Taekwoon sat for a moment longer—a bad choice, as something chose that moment to crawl up his neck. There was a shriek and Taekwoon jumped up, brushing furiously at whatever infernal insect had surprised him.

When he turned sheepishly, Yixing was doubled over laughing at him. "It's just a bug," Yixing gasped through bursts of laughter. "You should've seen your face."

Taekwoon glowered. "I don't want to hear this from the man who's scared of birds," he said flatly.

Yixing pouted. "Birds are actually scary—their beaks are sharp and—why are you laughing?"

"I'm not laughing," Taekwoon said, quickly schooling his expression into a blank one. It barely lasted a second before the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Still makes more sense than bugs," Yixing said. He huffed, shaking his head as he headed into the apartment.

"You're weird," Taekwoon said. Yixing didn't deign that with an answer, and headed straight for the shower instead.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

“So how’s it going?”

Taekwoon looked up from the game he was playing on his phone. Hongbin was leaning back in his chair, looking utterly bored. He probably was. Taekwoon tilted his head a little, frowning as he tried to work out what Hongbin was referring to. Hongbin waved his hand in an all encompassing gesture as he caught onto Taekwoon’s confusion. 

“The grand plan,” Hongbin said. “Your complicated pain in the ass. You haven’t complained about it in a while. Think it’s over?”

Taekwoon’s lips flattened into a straight line. He put down his phone, crossing his arms over his chest. “No,” he said bluntly. “He said in a few months.”

“Few months, hm,” Hongbin said. He looked contemplative for a moment. “It’s been a few weeks.”

Taekwoon sighed and nodded. “I shouldn’t have told you,” he said softly. “About any of this.”

Hongbin shrugged. “Why? Think I’ll tell someone?”

Taekwoon shook his head as he pursed his lips. He’d told Hongbin too much, told him almost everything he knew. It was… Taekwoon shook his head again, this time to himself.

“No,” Taekwoon said.

“Don’t worry,” Hongbin said. “I won’t get into trouble for it.”

Taekwoon sighed again. He stood and pushed the chair back, shaking out his shoulders as he paced around to the other side of his desk. “I don’t get it,” Taekwoon said. “What is he even doing?”

“What do you think?” Hongbin laughed, the sound snide. “Being a bastard.”

Taekwoon frowned at him.

“Guy’s crazy, hates his brother,” Hongbin elaborated. “Neither of them seem like perfect gentlemen, to tell the truth.” He paused, lips pursed, a small furrow forming between his brows before he shrugged it off. “You can’t, running at the top like that. Only thing is I’d rather this guy come out on top, because you don’t bite the hand that feeds you, unless there’s another that’ll feed you better. And I don’t think Director Jeon’s esteemed brother would do that.”

“So you’re saying I’m doing the right thing.”

Hongbin quirked an eyebrow. “Right thing?” he said. “Right is a relative term. There’s no meaning for it unless it’s on a scale. But, the thing you should do? I know I wouldn’t be happy with the alternative.”

Taekwoon hummed, nodding. “But does he deserve it?” Taekwoon said softly.

“Does anyone deserve it?” Hongbin’s voice had dropped its playful quality, its inquiring tone, and was carefully flat. Taekwoon stared at him, eyes unwavering. Hongbin did not shrug it off. 

Taekwoon shrugged, shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We all die anyway.”

“You did ask me,” Hongbin said, and there was a slight tone of wonderment in his voice, “about what made murder wrong.”

“I did,” Taekwoon said.

“You think killing that politician’s wife was worse than your usual work,” Hongbin said.

Taekwoon shrugged again. “She would have died eventually. Just like they do.”

“Death, huh,” Hongbin said. He breathed out a small sigh. “‘Death exists not as the opposite of life, but as a part of it.’ I guess that’s what it is for you.”

“Is it?” Taekwoon said.

“But to answer your question—does Jeon Seungho deserve his brother being a total bastard? Do the little pawns in his evil plan deserve to die? Who determines who deserves to die…” Hongbin frowned, pressed his lips together. “In the end, it’s not up to us to play god. It’s not up to us to decide who deserves it.”

The words sat in the room for long moments, as Taekwoon stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes turned somewhere in the direction of the far wall. Hongbin was still leaning back in his chair, his position unchanged. 

“So we let them play god?” Taekwoon asked.

“Isn’t it easier that way?”

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

"Do you ever regret?"

The question floated unanswered for several long moments. They were tangled in Hakyeon's sheets, the blankets kicked to the floor. Taekwoon was curled half on his side, face turned sleepily towards Hakyeon.

"Regret what?" Hakyeon asked. He frowned in genuine confusion.

Taekwoon shrugged. "Anything," he said.

Hakyeon's mouth parted then closed, lips pressed together, before he finally shook his head. "No," Hakyeon said. "I don't think so."

"Becoming a police officer? Moving? Me?" 

A deep frown etched between Hakyeon's brows. "What do you mean?"

Taekwoon shrugged, the movement still drowsy and soft. "Meeting me," he said.

"Never," Hakyeon said.

"Mm." Taekwoon nodded once, the motion bunching up the sheets against his cheek. Hakyeon had propped himself up on one elbow and was regarding Taekwoon with a fond smile on his face.

"Why, is there something you want to tell me?" Hakyeon teased. 

Taekwoon snorted and shook his head. "I was just thinking," he said. He paused. "If... If someone had told you, they could help you, if you'd do this one thing..."

"Would I have done it?" Hakyeon finished. Taekwoon nodded. He curled up a little tighter, pulling his knees a bit higher, before he sighed and rolled over onto his stomach.

"Is there a reason...why I shouldn't do that thing?" Hakyeon asked.

Taekwoon hesitated. "Maybe," he said. Paused. "It wouldn't hurt anyone."

Silence stretched between the words, and then in the spaces after it. Hakyeon's sheets were nice, soft, and Taekwoon liked burying his face in them.

"Maybe," Hakyeon echoed. His voice was quiet. "Is it something I would regret?"

Taekwoon laughed, softly. "You said you never regret," he said.

"I said I never regretted anything I've done," Hakyeon said, but Taekwoon shrugged it off. Hakyeon sighed. "I don't know. You're not giving me very much to work with here."

"I know," Taekwoon said.

"Maybe," Hakyeon said again. "It'd depend on what it was, and how they would help."

"Mmm."

The bed creaked as Taekwoon sat up slowly. He fished for his clothes on the floor, getting as far as finding his shirt before deciding that was as dressed as he needed to be to walk through Hakyeon's dark apartment to his fridge. Hakyeon was sitting up, bemused, when Taekwoon returned holding two bottles of beer.

"Still thirsty?" Hakyeon asked, wriggling an eyebrow.

Taekwoon scowled and made to hit him over the head with one of the bottles, but Hakyeon quickly snagged his wrist, making Taekwoon yelp a little, his grip loosening.

"I _am_ a police officer," Hakyeon said smugly. Taekwoon sat down on the floor to sulk.

"Mean," Taekwoon grumbled, cracking open the lid of his beer. Hakyeon, on the other hand, was staring at his like he could magic the lid off and shot Taekwoon a sour look.

"Ugh. Here." Hakyeon scooted to the edge of the bed and thrust the bottle to Taekwoon who obligingly opened it for him. The soft sound of rising foam fizzled in the space between them as Taekwoon handed it back.

"Say 'thank you'," Taekwoon teased.

"You could've just brought a bottle opener, show off," Hakyeon said.

"You could've gotten one yourself," Taekwoon sat back.

Hakyeon slanted his eyes at Taekwoon and Taekwoon stared back, unimpressed. "Lack of compassion," Hakyeon complained. He slid off the edge of the bed to sit next to Taekwoon, touching their bottles in a quiet 'cheers'.

"Mmm," Taekwoon hummed, neither disagreeing nor agreeing. He did however smile a little at Hakyeon's glower. 

It was cool now, end of September as it was, and without the heat on and with the two of them out of the blankets, the chill air of autumn lingered against their skin, the sweat long and quickly dried. He shivered lightly, not helped by the initial chill of cold beer.

"You've been busy lately?" Taekwoon said.

Hakyeon nodded. "Always," he said, lips twisted into a wry smile.

"You've been working even harder," Taekwoon commented.

"What do you mean?" Hakyeon frowned.

Taekwoon circled the lip of his beer bottle with his tongue before sipping at it. "The drug arrests. There's a lot of reports on the news lately," he said carefully. It wasn’t quite true. It hadn’t been big news. Most of it hadn’t even been reported but there’d been enough. It made for good publicity, increased trust in the police. He watched Hakyeon, gauging his reaction.

"Hm?" A moment, and then another, and then Hakyeon nodded enthusiastically to himself. "Ah! That one! That's not under my jurisdiction so I can't accept any credit." Hakyeon laughed at Taekwoon's narrowed eyes.

"But it's true," Hakyeon said after a moment. "They...they're doing really well. I'm happy for them, they've worked hard for this, but...they need to be careful. I know some of the guys and...it's dangerous."

Taekwoon nodded at Hakyeon's words. A small part of him seemed to sigh in relief.

"Be careful too," he said.

Hakyeon laughed, before taking a long drink. "I'm a police officer," Hakyeon said. "I'm justice personified."

Taekwoon rolled his eyes at that and kicked at Hakyeon's ankle but there was no heat in it, especially not when he had his beer at his mouth. 

"Still," Hakyeon said after a moment, sighing. "You're right. Never let your guard down." Something seemed to flash across Hakyeon's face, taking with it for several long seconds all traces of mirth, leaving only the drawn exhaustion of a man who'd seen too much in his young life. But seconds, no matter how long they were, were still only seconds. A smile passed in place before long, wan as it was.

Taekwoon nodded again, slowly. He pulled his legs up to his chest as he drank his beer. He could feel Hakyeon beside him, a constant, warm presence.

"It's dangerous," Taekwoon said.

Hakyeon glanced at him. Taekwoon looked down at his beer. Already, it was half empty, in the long spaces between their shared words. Time seemed to have slowed and disappeared all at once. 

"The world is dangerous," Hakyeon said. "Someone has to make it safer. That's what you showed me."

Taekwoon laughed, the sound dry, Hakyeon's words tired. Or perhaps, they were tired only to Taekwoon.

"Taekwoon."

Time seemed to have slipped away again when Hakyeon's voice tugged Taekwoon back. Taekwoon blinked.

"About what you said, about regretting things..." Hakyeon's eyes drifted from the distance, towards Taekwoon's face, before their gazes met. His lips parted in a soft smile. "I wouldn't, if it meant changing anything important to me. Like you—not...not like that. I mean, as a friend."

Hakyeon's voice seemed to waver a little, and Taekwoon ducked his head, drinking deeply from his beer. There was a light touch against his neck and Taekwoon jerked, but it was only Hakyeon. There was a strange smile on Hakyeon's face as he threaded his fingers through the ends of Taekwoon's hair.

"It's getting long," Hakyeon said softly. "We should go get it cut again."

"I'm old enough to go by myself," Taekwoon said.

"Ah? Oh, of course." Hakyeon laughed and then ran his fingers through Taekwoon's hair once more as if patting a cat, before he stood, stretching. Taekwoon admired the lithe lines of Hakyeon's body, muscled, fit and firm, shifting beneath tanned skin.

"Do you want to shower first?" Hakyeon asked. "Since I know you'll..."

Taekwoon nodded.

"Maybe the trains are still running," he agreed. Hakyeon laughed, and gestured for Taekwoon to go ahead. A few loose strands of Taekwoon’s hair were clutched in his palm. Hakyeon swallowed, and tucked them carefully away in his desk.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

“It’s me.”

Taekwoon relaxed at Hongbin’s voice, shutting the door behind him. There was a shadow of a figure by the window; knees pulled up to his chest, the lump of a cat beside him. The cat stood and stretched when the light was turned on but the human did not move. Hongbin sat with his back to him and Taekwoon frowned at his still form. Choco padded over to Taekwoon, winding about his legs as he looked up at his human. Taekwoon dropped into a crouch and pat him, but it was absentminded, his eyes still on Hongbin.

“I didn’t expect you here,” Taekwoon said. His words, soft though they were, echoed in the sparsely occupied apartment.

“Next time I’ll call ahead,” Hongbin said. He twitched when Taekwoon sat down next to him, mirroring his movements. It was dark out, now. September was nearing its close, taking with it the last vestiges of summer. The lingering evening sun had been washed further and further away, until it was only the faintest of light that lasted past dinner time. It was well past dinner now, and the only light past the window were those of mankind’s own making.

Taekwoon laughed softly at Hongbin's words, flat as they were. The cats were conspicuous in their absence. Hongbin was still, had fallen still, not even his breaths making much of a disturbance. A light frown marked the space between Taekwoon's brows as he sat next to the other man, but minutes lengthened and only silence bloomed.

Another minute, and then another, and then Taekwoon leaned over, bracing himself with one hand against the floor, the other catching Hongbin's chin. Taekwoon kissed him slowly, gently, easing away the stiffness in Hongbin's lines, until Hongbin seemed to relax. He let his hand trail downward, resting against Hongbin's back. Hongbin made a small sound into Taekwoon's mouth as Taekwoon lowered them both to the floor, still kissing Hongbin in short, sweet motions.

Hongbin pushed him away and sat up.

"Sorry hyung, I'm not in the mood," Hongbin said. His eyes were turned away from Taekwoon, from Taekwoon's obvious surprise.

Taekwoon sat back on his heels, brows furrowed in confusion. Hongbin had pulled his legs to his chest again but the tension that had been holding him still seemed to have been traded for something less sure, less firm, yet equally tenacious. 

A laugh, a shaky laugh, and it took Taekwoon a moment to match it with the slight tremble of Hongbin's shoulders.

"I know why you do it," Hongbin said. "You're so obvious sometimes. You think that this is some sort of replacement for the emotional relationships you refuse to allow yourself to have.” He laughed, the sound harsh. “And that’s fucked up. Do you even trust anyone?”

The words spilled out of him and crashed against Taekwoon. Words that had had hours to build as Hongbin had sat in the darkened apartment, had turned to anywhere but the apartment that he shared with Chansik.

“I trust you,” Taekwoon said defensively. “I told you.” A pause. His voice softened. “You’re the one who said trust was dangerous.”

“‘Trust is a dangerous game to play in this line of work,’” Hongbin said. “I did say that, didn’t I.”

"You did," Taekwoon agreed.

Hongbin laughed, unsteady. He pushed his bangs back from his face, ran his hand through his hair. "You're fucked up, hyung. You really are."

"I..."

Taekwoon stood, movement jerky. Hongbin's eyes flashed upwards for a moment, drawn by the motion, before the floor regained its magnetic pull. His apartment wrapped comfortably around him as Taekwoon went through the motions of boiling water, of grinding beans, of steeping the coffee. He poured it into two mugs, then carried one over to Hongbin.

"Here," he said. He held it out, still standing. Hongbin frowned but took it.

"Thanks," he said. Taekwoon waited a moment, watched as Hongbin blew at it cautiously, took a sip—made a face.

"No sugar," Taekwoon answered before Hongbin could ask. "It's good coffee. Good coffee is meant to be drank black.”

"Snob," Hongbin muttered.

Taekwoon breathed out a laugh before he went back for his own mug. As an afterthought, he snagged the ashtray from the kitchen counter and brought it with him as well. Hongbin glanced up at his return.

"Careful, it's hot," Taekwoon said.

Hongbin made a face at him. "I couldn't tell," he said.

Another laugh, and this time, a small smile twitched at Hongbin's lips.

The comfort of coffee shrouded them, mixed in with the silence of breathing. The evening deepened, their mugs cooled.

"Friendship is not a weakness," Hongbin said, voice soft.

Taekwoon glanced at him. "It can be."

The corners of Hongbin's mouth tightened, his eyes still stubbornly forward. With the lights in the apartment on, when Taekwoon turned to look outside, it was the reflection of Hongbin's gaze that he met, backlit by the glare of the city.

"Why won't you let anyone _in_ —isn't it lonely?" A slight furrow marked Hongbin's brows. "Not having friends?"

It would have been Taekwoon's turn to laugh, but he traded it for a long minute of silence. Against the glass, against the window, Hongbin's outline was faint, mirage like, and the shape of whatever it was that his eyes held was ill defined, fuzzy.

"No," Taekwoon said softly. "It's safer."

"For them?" Hongbin asked. "For you?"

"Both."

The answer came without hesitation.

Whether or not it was the one Hongbin had expected—whether or not there had been one Hongbin had expected—it settled against him, a weight holding him back. His eyes, for a moment, faltered in the reflection. Taekwoon's remained there unwavering.

“Just...Just because you don’t think they’re friends, doesn’t mean they don’t,” Hongbin said softly. “You can’t stop that. You can’t _stop people from caring for you_.”

Hongbin laughed shakily, dropping his head against his arms. “Fuck,” he said.

“I guess it’s only fun to live on the edge when you’re sure you won’t fall,” Hongbin said quietly. His words were muffled, faint, and it was a testament to how long Taekwoon had known him that he could pick them out, even when they were so soft it was as if Hongbin hadn’t meant for Taekwoon to hear them at all.

“I should have warned you,” Taekwoon murmured.

Hongbin’s laugh was a harsh one. “You did,” Hongbin said. “Several times.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Taekwoon shook his head. “I think...the police…”

“Your cop buddy?” Hongbin asked. He glanced up, met Taekwoon’s eyes in their reflections again. Taekwoon shook his head, shrugged, nodded. A small smile twisted at Hongbin’s mouth. “Don’t need a cop to tell me that. I can hear the news from the grapevine as well as you can, I’m not stupid. I just...fuck.”

“You...I’m glad you’re safe,” Taekwoon said. He swallowed. 

“Right.” Hongbin laughed, the sound dry. “Right. Because what, otherwise you’d need a new accountant, new person to train, new fuck buddy—wait, you’ve got that one covered already.”

Taekwoon swallowed, a sharp pang stabbing through his chest, hot, aching, choking and crushing. Hongbin had looked away again, looked down. He’d put his cup down, still half full. It sat between the two of them. Taekwoon turned his mug between his hands, the ceramic no longer hot, only lukewarm. He brought it to his mouth, held it there for long seconds, before he tipped it back and drained it. Like the mug, it was barely warm, and it slid down his throat, bitter. 

“What am I to you?”

Hongbin glanced up at Taekwoon’s voice.

“My boss,” Hongbin said after a long moment, the answer hushed, muted.

“I wasn’t always your boss,” Taekwoon said.

“Then...someone I worked with,” Hongbin said. A smile twisted at his lips, one that didn’t reach his eyes, although they tugged at his dimples. “A good fuck.”

Taekwoon nodded, shrugged. He stood, taking his empty mug, pausing for a moment to stare down at Hongbin’s. He left it, carried his mug to the sink, washed it carefully, placed it on the drying rack. The smell of coffee still lingered in the kitchen, and Taekwoon lingered in it for a moment before he returned to Hongbin. He sat down next to him again, crossed his legs in front of himself, and then once again stood. Hongbin watched him go again, watched his reflection retreat, watched as Taekwoon’s reflection held out a familiar rectangular box. Hongbin smiled bitterly.

“We all die in the end, huh.” Hongbin took the carton from Taekwoon, tapping out two cigarettes. Handed one to Taekwoon. Taekwoon sat down again, lit first Hongbin’s, and then his own. When he’d been young, very young, he’d hated the smell of smoke. He couldn’t remember when it’d become a smell of comfort instead.

“Haven’t done this since college,” Hongbin said. He breathed out a cloud of smoke, eyes almost wondering, smile far more wretched. The cigarette seemed to fit naturally into Hongbin’s hand, between his fingers. Hongbin caught Taekwoon looking and shot him a wry look but said nothing.

“Chansik has changed you,” Taekwoon said. He pulled the ashtray between them, placed it next to Hongbin’s still unfinished coffee.

“I know,” Hongbin said. He laughed, quietly, mirthlessly.

“Do you ever get jealous?”

“Of who? Chansik?” Hongbin snorted, shook his head, and then laughed again, the sound more bitter each time than the last. “Not Chansik. But maybe...Maybe of Junghwan. He...Channie...He can give him what I can’t.”

Hongbin’s words were flat, resigned. “He deserves better,” Hongbin said. “Doesn’t deserve someone who just won’t go home one day, because the fucking idiot got himself arrested.”

Smoke curled about Hongbin’s fingers as he held the cigarette to his lips, even as he breathed out. Taekwoon stared down at his. 

“Chansik has changed me,” Hongbin echoed. He seemed to curl into himself a little tighter. “I just don’t know if it was a bad thing after all.”

Taekwoon nodded, an acknowledgement, not a reply. “People change,” he said.

“Like you?”

Taekwoon hesitated, shrugged, shook his head. Hongbin laughed.

“Maybe you should,” Hongbin said. “One day I won’t be around to haul your sorry ass out of trouble.”

“I never get into trouble,” Taekwoon said.

“There’s always a first.”

“What makes you think you could?”

“Because who else would?”

“...Because I’m your boss?” Taekwoon asked.

“Something like that.” Hongbin shook his head, the movement slight. “If you’re fucked up, I am too.”

“Mm.”

“You agreed a bit too fast.”

Taekwoon shrugged, staring at the smoke. “We all are, in our own way.”

“We?”

“Humans.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot, lately,” Hongbin said.

“Someone keeps saying that to me a lot,” Taekwoon said.

“Makes sense.”

“Why Chansik?”

“What?” Hongbin turned to him, frown deep, expression taut. 

Taekwoon shrugged, leaving Hongbin to make an irritated noise. But Taekwoon didn’t push and Hongbin turned back to his cigarette. The city was still lit outside, but it was shielded behind the light in the apartment itself. From the outside, however, they were two silhouettes, spotlighted clear as day. Had anyone been outside, looking in. 

Time grew long as their cigarettes burned short, then burned out. In time, Hongbin finally discarded his in the ashtray. A moment later, and Taekwoon followed suit. He let Hongbin move carefully over the ashtray, the coffee, to straddle him, to settle with his legs on either side of Taekwoon’s thighs, with his back against Taekwoon’s still crooked legs. He let Hongbin push him down, let Hongbin kiss him, slow and deep, the unfamiliar smell of cigarette smoke mixed in with the faint, lingering scent of Taekwoon’s shampoo. Taekwoon closed his eyes and let Hongbin kiss down his jaw, his neck, unbutton his shirt, unfasten his jeans. Let Hongbin settle between his legs, mouth around his cock, as the light in his apartment remained on, as the blinds of his large, glass windows remained undrawn, the two of them a silent montage to the city below.

After, he let Hongbin lie for a moment, sprawled unnecessarily on top of him, before Hongbin stood.

“I’m going,” Hongbin said. Taekwoon watched from the floor as Hongbin straightened his shirt, brushed back his hair. Hongbin caught his gaze and smirked, just a little, as if to reassure Taekwoon in some strange way. “No offence,” Hongbin said, in a tone that meant he very much meant to offend, “but you’re about as conversational as a cinder block.”

Taekwoon stared, spluttered some sort of protest that only served to further prove Hongbin’s point. He sat up, glaring. Hongbin laughed.

“Well then, I'm off. Unlike you, Chansik is fun to hang out with, not just to fuck,” Hongbin said serenely, eyes twinkling with mirth. He scooped up his jacket from the floor by the door but paused right before he opened it. He glanced back at Taekwoon, still glowering at him, Hongbin’s lips curling in amusement. “Which is why I'm dating him, and not you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah, well.” Hongbin shrugged, and pulled the door open. “Whatever floats your boat.”

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

October was welcomed in with a torrent of rain, clouds heavy, skies dark. The rain took with it leaves, and swept away as much grime as it brought in mud, stolen from what gardens or parks there were. But the days cleared, the rain dwindling, the skies, on some nights, clear.

“But there’s nothing to see,” Yixing said.

They sat with their backs against Yixing’s balcony door. It was cold now, cold enough that it would’ve been foolish to be outside without a shirt, but Yixing had always been foolish. Taekwoon had stolen one of Yixing’s sweaters, shoving his arms into the sleeves and feeling thankful that it was Yixing’s legs that were short, not the rest of him. Yixing shivered as a breeze swept through the balcony, raising goosebumps on Taekwoon’s skin.

“There was a moon earlier,” Taekwoon said.

“Oh, I guess I missed it,” Yixing said.

“It wasn’t big.”

Yixing chuckled. “The moon can change sizes?” he asked.

Taekwoon pursed his lips, slanting his eyes at Yixing who just grinned at him unabashedly. 

“It wasn’t _full_ ,” Taekwoon said, and Yixing laughed.

“It’s not,” Yixing agreed. “Chuseok was two weeks ago, right?”

“Bit more than that,” Taekwoon said after a moment. Yixing nodded.

“Then I guess there wasn’t very much moon,” Yixing said. Taekwoon stared at him skeptically but Yixing just shrugged.

It was dark around them, but with enough light from the city that they were awash in shadows, the same light that obscured the finer details of the sky, even when clouds heavy with rain did not. Yixing leaned over Taekwoon, his body warm and heavy for the few seconds his weight lingered as he grabbed Taekwoon’s unfinished beer.

Taekwoon nodded and shrugged at Yixing’s unspoken question. He hadn’t touched it for the better part of an hour now. Hadn’t been in the mood.

Yixing settled back with Taekwoon’s beer, and Taekwoon briefly mourned the loss of extra warmth as the cold came rushing back to fill the space that Yixing’s body had vacated.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Taekwoon said.

Yixing laughed softly, bottle halfway to his mouth. He took a long swallow before he shrugged. “Coming from you?” he teased.

Taekwoon grumbled but otherwise said nothing, knowing there was no point protesting.

The same silence that had dominated the past hour, longer, descended upon them again. Taekwoon shifted, the sound of his jeans against the concrete a shuffle of interruption, followed by the soft clink of glass against concrete.

“I’ve been thinking,” Yixing said. He paused, worried at his lip, stared outwards into the city. “About what to say.”

Taekwoon glanced at him, waiting.

“Maybe I have too many things,” Yixing said. He laughed, a breathy sound, his eyes twinkling in the darkness, his cheek dimpled. There was still something off, sad, about that smile, but perhaps that was merely Taekwoon’s imagination, merely the darkness that a city at autumn night imposed on the image.

“Pick one,” Taekwoon said.

Yixing laughed again, more of a giggle than a laugh, and Taekwoon wondered, not for the first time, what went through that brain of his. 

“Alright,” Yixing said, but then he stopped. His lips were still parted, pursed, as if frozen half thought, half word. He stayed like that for several long moments, like a computer that had stalled and gone unresponsive. Taekwoon hovered, unsure if prodding him would cause the program to continue, to restart, or to crash. Waiting, he decided, was still the best option. A second later, Yixing’s lips curled into a sheepish smile. He rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging at Taekwoon.

“I guess I don’t know,” Yixing said. He sighed, the motion itself drawn out, his body slumping back limp against the wall. He picked up the beer again, draining it this time.

"The other day," Yixing said, and again, stopped. As if realising it himself, he smiled wryly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I guess I wasn't careful."

Taekwoon frowned, mulling over Yixing's words, peeling them apart for the meaning. His frown only deepened, when he found the moment Yixing's words were an echo of. 

"You too," he said. It should've been a question. But like with Hongbin, there was little question in the few things that Yixing could have meant. It took the question away from Taekwoon's voice, even if his words themselves were meant to be one.

"Mm?" Yixing glanced at him, questioning.

"Someone else..." Taekwoon shook his head. "If I say 'be careful' now..."

"Words never do too much good," Yixing agreed. He sighed, again. This time, he stood. Taekwoon glanced up at him, but Yixing only stepped around him to go into the apartment. He reemerged less than half a minute later, still bare chested.

"I thought you went to get a shirt," Taekwoon said.

Yixing laughed, the sound clear as he shut the door, sitting down cross legged next to Taekwoon. "I don't need one," he said stubbornly. Taekwoon graciously pretended not to notice the clear waver in Yixing's voice as a cold wind chose that moment to pass by.

Taekwoon took the offered cigarette, the motion practiced and familiar. Yixing lit his cigarette for him, before lighting his own. The lighter was tossed against the floor in front of Yixing's lap.

"Would you change what you did?" Yixing asked suddenly. "If you could go back to before, would you change what you chose?"

"What I chose?" Taekwoon asked.

Yixing nodded.

"How before?"

"Before everything," Yixing said. He glanced at Taekwoon, his expression wry. "Or is that too much?"

Taekwoon laughed dryly. 

"Mm," Yixing said. "I guess it was. I...I thought about it, if there was just one decision that I changed...But I didn't know. Or, I guess it's better to say, I couldn't know, would it be better? Would it be happier?"

"The butterfly thing," Taekwoon said.

Yixing frowned then shook his head. "No, just... if after I was discharged, I...I went and did something else, anything else... He still would've died, right?"

Taekwoon made a sound low in his throat, neither agreement nor disagreement, but an acknowledgement. 

"If he hadn't helped me when I fell... Well, I guess I mean that if we hadn't met, but would that be better—I _liked_ him, even if..." Yixing trailed off, voice soft. He brought his cigarette to his lips, the glow briefly illuminating his face. "Well, I guess what I mean is, the time we spent together was still...good, and I can't say, it'd be better, if we didn't."

This time, Taekwoon's hum was one of assent. Hakyeon's voice seemed to echo softly in his head, accompanied by a bright smile, eyes crinkled, the offering of an ice cream.

"I don't know what decisions I'd change," Taekwoon said. He paused, playing with his cigarette between his fingers. "I don't know if I had any choices."

"There's always a choice," Yixing said quietly. "Just not always good ones."

"I don't know if there was a choice I could've made," Taekwoon said. "Other than the ones I made."

"It's still a choice," Yixing said.

"Not much of one," Taekwoon said.

Yixing's only response was a slow exhale, accompanied by a slow cloud of smoke. Somewhere, hidden behind the smoke, was a slow smile, the closing of eyes. 

"But the things we've already done are done and can't be changed," Yixing said. "And the things we're going to do—we’ll just make the same mistakes we've already made."

Taekwoon caught his lip between his teeth. He stared at his cigarette, at the faint glow there, waiting to be breathed to life. Taekwoon obliged it, letting the buzz flitter through his body.

"We can't make the same mistakes," Taekwoon said.

"Mm. Maybe different mistakes." 

Yixing followed the words with a long breath of smoke, hiding and obscuring them, disappearing into the night. The glow faded, was brought away from Yixing's face. Taekwoon's followed the dull arc of its light, languid, before it was snuffed out.

"But the things we're going to do...they're not going to change much," Yixing said.

Taekwoon glanced at him, frowned, was ignored. But his interjection had been a silent one, and in the dark it was easily missed, the motion small.

"I guess, what I want to say is, the future...looks kind of bleak, a little." Yixing laughed as he said this, the last few words carried on the breath of that laughter. "If there is one."

"The future just means what hasn't happened yet?" 

"Maybe," Yixing said. "But maybe things won't happen."

"Mmm." 

Taekwoon leaned over Yixing, echoing and mirroring an earlier scene. Yixing shivered, Taekwoon's hand brushing against his bare chest, skin cold. Taekwoon left the stub of the cigarette in the ashtray then drew back. This time, he trailed his hand purposely against Yixing's stomach. Yixing's breath hitched, but he otherwise did not move. 

The city disappeared for a moment as his eyes fell closed, and then several moments longer as they stayed closed. It was cold, even with Yixing's sweater. But his feet were bare and he wore nothing under the sweater.

"You'll get sick," Taekwoon said.

"Idiots don't get sick," Yixing said.

"You've been sick before."

"Ah. Maybe?" The shuffle of fabric. "It's not that cold."

Taekwoon snorted, Yixing's words doubtful enough on their own to need Taekwoon's added disbelief. Another shuffle, and then there was a heavy weight against him. Taekwoon's eyes snapped open, not that he needed to see to know that Yixing had settled against him, curling against his side like an overgrown cat. A hand clutched at his sweater—or rather, Yixing's hand clutched at Yixing's sweater, that Taekwoon was wearing—while the other curled about Taekwoon's arm. 

"But is it worth it?" Yixing murmured. The words were warm and damp against Taekwoon's shoulder, soft and muffled through the sweater.

"Is what worth it?" Taekwoon spoke in contrast to the city at large.

"Me," Yixing said, and then, "you." He shifted so it was his cheek pressed against Taekwoon's shoulder instead, drew his legs up so they were pressed against his chest, touching Taekwoon's arm. "There's a point...where’s the point, when I can't justify the things I'm doing, for myself? Where’s the point when I have to say...is my life worth so much more than someone else's?" A breath, a pause. "What's the point, where you have to stop...and ask yourself: 'am I worth it'?"

Taekwoon blinked. He wasn't sure. He wanted to say 'yes, I'm always worth it,’ but the truth was, he didn't know either. He wasn't sure.

Another shuffle, and this time, it was Yixing pulling away, leaving behind the sense of emptiness again, only this time, a larger emptiness, a heavier one. A colder one, for all that the heaviness had been warmer.

Another cigarette, but this time, Taekwoon shook his head. He watched as Yixing balanced it between his lips, as he lit it, as it began to burn with a familiar orange glow. Watched his fingers curl, the bend of his wrist, the tired lines of his face. Yixing turned to stare at him. His eyes were soft in a way. Soft, as in they weren't questioning, they weren't judging—were simply there. Simply stared at him, fixed, yet still soft.

For long moments, neither of them spoke. Taekwoon because he had nothing to say, Yixing perhaps because he was waiting, perhaps because he was thinking, perhaps because he too had nothing else to say.

Smoke curled around Yixing's fingertips, around him, around the two of them, wisps enveloping Taekwoon as well, capturing their silence if not their forms. For by the time the smoke circled around them, it had long since dissipated into something so faint that only the brightest spotlight could've shown where its boundaries began and ended.

"If you do something," Taekwoon said, "no matter what it is, you should do it honestly."

It wasn't quite an answer, but the question had not been a multiple choice.

"Honestly?" Yixing asked. "What does that mean."

Taekwoon blinked and stared at him. He swallowed his first words, and his second, and then he swallowed several heartbeats as he considered the question, and he considered what it meant to be honest.

He'd once told Hongbin that he preferred stabbing someone to pushing them down the stairs because it was more straightforward. It was more honest.

_"Killing someone. Is honest?"_ Hongbin had said.

Taekwoon hadn't answered then, but he wasn't sure he could answer now either. In the end, he gave a half hearted shrug and looked away from Yixing, his eyes skimming across his face, catching on the burr of light, turning towards the blur of the city. 

"It's honest if you don't lie about it," Taekwoon said. "If you don't lie about it to yourself. If you do it, and it's what it seems to be."

Yixing's head tilted to the side as it did when he was curious, cautious, when there was something he couldn't quite put his finger on, when he couldn't quite voice it. His eyes took on that lost expression, the one that Yixing had once said had labelled him a sheep—he'd never made a very good sheep, he'd also said. His head remained tilted even as he pulled at his cigarette, the smoke spilling out with what seemed to be a silent sigh.

"But," Yixing asked, speaking slowly after several long moments, "is it still honest if you lie about it to others?"

Taekwoon wasn't sure. "Maybe," he said. "I don't know."

Yixing smiled, a tight smile. "Then what does it mean to be honest?" he asked again.

"I don't know," Taekwoon repeated, and then, after a moment, he said: "humans are selfish."

Yixing laughed. It was almost amused, almost mirthful, barely just on the wrong side of it.

"Yes, I suppose we are," he murmured, and turned to catch Taekwoon in a long kiss.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

"It's open!"

Taekwoon hesitated at Wonsik's familiar voice, just as he'd hesitated earlier, standing at Wonsik's door. Only this time, the hesitation was shorter, as there was no option to simply turn around and go. He took a deep breath, then pushed the door open.

He was surprised to see Wonsik sitting on the floor of the living room, laptop settled on his crossed legs. A flash of something Taekwoon couldn't quite identify passed over Wonsik's face, before it broke out into his usual grin.

"Yo, hey!" Wonsik shut his laptop and got to his feet.

"It's me," Taekwoon said, unnecessarily. He smiled at Wonsik, a little shakily, then held out the bag he'd brought. "For you."

"Huh?" Wonsik took it, a predictable look of confusion passing over his face.

"It's just...something," Taekwoon mumbled. "I thought...food...and meat..."

Wonsik peered into the bag, eyes opening comically wide. Taekwoon worried at his lip. He hadn't been sure how much he should get, if it was too much or too little. Hongbin had done that once, shoved a box of beef at him in a cold bag—it'd been an apology for something. Taekwoon couldn't remember anymore. But Wonsik could eat a lot too, he'd decided.

"Um," Wonsik said, "you're going to help me eat this right?"

Taekwoon blinked and shook his head. "It's for you?"

"Right," Wonsik said. He looked like he wanted to argue, but Taekwoon also looked like he didn't want to argue, so it was Wonsik who zipped it. There was a pack of beer too, under it. Taekwoon drank enough of Wonsik's beer—it was only right he replenish it.

"So what's up?" Wonsik asked. "Do you...need something?"

Taekwoon shook his head, shifting awkwardly. "I just...wanted to drop by today," he said. "I have to go somewhere."

"Now?"

Taekwoon nodded, even though it wasn't quite true. The words he wanted to say couldn't quite seem to untangle themselves, even though he'd ironed them out on the way here. "Thank you," he settled for. "It's better if you don't help me out anymore."

"Taekwoon?" Wonsik's brows were furrowed in concern. "Did something happen?"

He hadn't meant for his words to be quite so serious or stilted—he quickly shook his head. "No, but I think it's not very fair," he said. He smiled a little, a slight quirk of his lips. "You never needed to in the first place."

"Hey, I didn't need to, I wanted to," Wonsik said, but there was still something akin to relief in his eyes, a hint of it even through the concern. "But..."

"I'll try my best not to get hurt," Taekwoon said.

"You're a good friend," Wonsik said—Taekwoon ducked his head as a flush began to creep up his cheeks.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

Light caught in Yixing's eyes as he pulled back from kissing Taekwoon, a faint flush visible on his cheeks even in the dim light. A pleasant buzz of warmth ran against Taekwoon's skin and he rolled them over, pressing Yixing under him as he kissed him. It was lazy, unhurried, the both of them having already been well satisfied. Sparks seemed to play between their bare skin, between their touches, between their thighs pressed against each other, Yixing's hands running down the smooth expanse of Taekwoon's back. Yixing nipped lightly at Taekwoon's lip, eyes playful. Taekwoon swallowed a laugh and deepened the kiss, forcing it rougher, until Yixing was rutting up against him again, his cock flush against Taekwoon's leg. But there was no urgency there, not as Yixing's hand slipped between the two of them to find Taekwoon's cock. Taekwoon's breath hitched, and he let out a fluttering breath as Yixing began to stroke him, sucking gentle yet insistent kisses against Taekwoon's lip at the same time. Yixing was hardening against him, unsurprisingly, and Taekwoon's fingers found Yixing's cock. He gave it a slight squeeze, and was rewarded with a breathy gasp into his mouth. Yixing came first, Taekwoon finishing himself off even as he drew out every bit of Yixing's orgasm, until they were both lying lazy and limp again.

They were gross, again, but the shower could wait until the morning. Right now, Taekwoon didn't want to move, and from the way Yixing had buried his face into the pillow, he didn't either.

Taekwoon had nearly drifted to sleep when Yixing's voice prodded at his consciousness, dragging him back to wakefulness.

"It was my birthday last week," Yixing said.

It took Taekwoon a moment to process the words, and when he did, he rolled over to face Yixing. Yixing had turned his head to the side, even though he was still lying on his stomach. A wry smile flit across his lips when he met Taekwoon's eyes. "When you were here," Yixing said. "I turned twenty six."

"Twenty six," Taekwoon repeated. "You're a year younger than I am."

"Ah, really? Then I should call you hyung, right?"

Taekwoon wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. "It'd be weird," he said.

"Mm, I don't think I would remember to call you hyung," Yixing agreed. He paused. "Then the two of you are the same age. Were, I guess."

Several long breaths passed while Taekwoon frowned over Yixing's words. "Your friend," he finally said.

Yixing nodded. "I didn't call him hyung either," he said.

Silence followed those words, a comfortable one, a blanket, warm yet not suffocating.

"Yixing."

"Mm?"

"Why...is murder wrong?"

Yixing's heart seemed to skip a beat, or perhaps it was time that froze a beat. His eyes flashed hard, cold, searing for a heartbeat, a missed heartbeat.

"It's weird," Yixing murmured. His eyes had gone back to their usual unfocussed look. "You go to the military, and if you're a soldier, you're supposed to kill people. But then you leave the military, and you're never supposed to kill people."

"Unless you enlist again," Taekwoon said.

"Mm." Yixing rolled over onto his back. "I've always wondered, what's it like, to kill someone?"

It was Taekwoon's turn to have time freeze a beat, but it was not stone that his eyes turned to resemble. "I..."

"You don't have to answer," Yixing said. He sighed, a deep breath. "But...I've always wondered, are you supposed to punish the gun, or the person who fires the gun?"

"You break the gun," Taekwoon answered without hesitation.

"But then they could just get another one," Yixing said.

"Why not both?" Taekwoon asked.

Yixing laughed bitterly. "Because life isn't that fair," he said. Taekwoon jerked as Yixing's hand brushed against his arm, but stilled as Yixing's fingers pressed into the crook of his elbow.

"Yixing."

"Mm?"

"There's some things...that once you do, you can't undo," Taekwoon said. "That can never be undone."

"Like permanent marker?" Yixing asked.

Taekwoon laughed, a helpless laugh. A helpless laugh that was swallowed, as Yixing rolled back on top of him. His thumb brushed against the side of Taekwoon's jaw as he kissed him, as if to say _or like this?_

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

There was a picture in the paper. It was a small one, grey, clearly an ID picture. A small block of text. A note about the brutal stabbing death of a man—noteworthy only because the body had been found by a middle school student.

“Hyung?”

“Jang Yeseong,” Taekwoon murmured. He ran his finger over the small words of text, the hanja in brackets. “Zhang Yixing.”

Hongbin was in front of Taekwoon—he picked up the paper from Taekwoon’s desk, his eyes quickly catching on the small article Taekwoon had seen, and then the date. “Today’s the twentieth,” he said quietly to himself. Hongbin’s brows furrowed, then he glanced up at Taekwoon, meeting his eyes, even though Taekwoon wasn’t quite meeting his. “Two days ago.”

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said shakily. Hongbin had asked him if he’d needed a ride, two days ago. Taekwoon had said no.

“Your…”

_See you later_ , he’d said. His face had been half cast in shadow, half lit by the streetlight. An image two days old. 

“Friend,” Taekwoon said. “My friend.”

_Yeah,_ Taekwoon had said. _Yeah._

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

“Wha—Taekwoon!?”

“It’s me,” Taekwoon said.

"It's midnight what are you—"

Taekwoon cut him off. Pushed the door shut, pushed Hakyeon against the door, pressed their lips together in a messy kiss, a desperate kiss. One where their noses clashed awkwardly, where the kiss landed first more next to Hakyeon's mouth than on his mouth, where Hakyeon froze for a good few seconds, as if he were unsure whether or not to push Taekwoon away before his hands came down to rest hesitantly on Taekwoon's waist, as he parted his lips to let Taekwoon kiss him like Hakyeon was air.

They pulled apart and Taekwoon's chest was heaving, Hakyeon's lips were slick with spit and slightly swollen. Hakyeon looked at Taekwoon, really looked, and for a brief moment something sharp and jagged seemed to embed itself in his chest as he was abruptly struck by Taekwoon's wild beauty, something in his eyes, in the way he held himself—it was Hakyeon who shoved Taekwoon towards the bed, who yanked off his jacket, who pushed him flat onto it hard enough that Taekwoon's vision seemed to black out for a moment as his head struck.

Hakyeon had already been dressed for bed, loose short sleeves, sweatpants—Taekwoon grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down, kissing him. Their legs tangled, Hakyeon's elbow jabbing against Taekwoon's chest, digging into the sharp jut of his ribs, his urgency rough in a way that was nothing like four months ago, hidden in the shadows and softened by alcohol, tentative and soft and gentle. Almost exactly four months ago, the last week of June, a day or two short. 

It brought Taekwoon up short for a brief moment, as he cast about for the date, four months old, but it was crushed by Hakyeon's fingers pressing against Taekwoon's crotch through his jeans. Taekwoon let out a low moan, grabbed Hakyeon's wrist, guided his hand to the fastener of his jeans. There was a second, and then Hakyeon's teeth were sharp against his skin, the crook of his neck, even as he deftly undid the zipper, shoved his hand under the elastic of Taekwoon's underwear and grabbed his dick. The sensations were overwhelming—tongue hot and rough, teeth sharp, blunt, unfamiliar, Hakyeon's hand tight around his dick, his mouth hot against his skin, the side of his neck, the line of his collarbone where the top button of his shirt had come undone.

Taekwoon clutched at the fabric of Hakyeon's shirt, slid his hands under it, the skin of his back strangely smooth over the ridges of his spine. The sounds coming from his mouth didn't seem to belong to him, seemed to have been wrenched out from some place deep inside him, Hakyeon unbuttoning his shirt, mouthing down his chest, leaving sharp marks as he kissed down to the line of Taekwoon's hip. Taekwoon moaned, fingers digging against Hakyeon's shoulder blades as the other man licked experimentally at the tip of Taekwoon's cock, the moan turning into a strangled cry.

Hakyeon's mouth closed about the head of Taekwoon's cock, tongue probing against the slit. Taekwoon was already full and swollen from Hakyeon's hand, and he moaned, every wet touch hot and sensitive. Heat slowly enveloped Taekwoon's dick as Hakyeon took him in, tongue pressed against the underside, cheeks hollowed. Taekwoon tensed, his hips bucking upwards, thrusting into Hakyeon's mouth, into the heat there, into the tight circle of Hakyeon's lips. His eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth open, stuttering sounds of pleasure and need spilling out, loud. His ankles caught around Hakyeon's calves, muscles tense, sliding up Hakyeon's legs, shoving up his sweatpants.

Taekwoon came with a quiet cry, an aborted warning, fingers still digging into Hakyeon's shoulders, blunt nails leaving sharp, stark crescents. His come spilled over his bare stomach as Hakyeon pushed him into oversensitivity, the rough callouses on his hand too much friction against him. Taekwoon heard rather than saw Hakyeon come, his hand shoved beneath the elastic of his sweatpants, a stain dark and wet at his crotch.

He could've, Taekwoon suddenly thought, walked away that day. When the sun had been setting, when he'd been tall but still scrawny, when he'd come across that college kid and the cat. The cat had been dead already—the second death had done nothing, except, Taekwoon thought with a hollow feeling as he drank in the image of tanned skin and sweat slicked hair, drive away a future that might've never happened anyway. He wouldn't know.

Hakyeon sat back on his haunches and his eyes met Taekwoon's, his gaze soft. Taekwoon held it for a second, and then another, the second perhaps a bit too long.

"I need to go," Taekwoon said.

He didn't wait for Hakyeon to respond before pushing himself upright, tugging his jeans back on, ignoring the sticky mess against him, hiding it under his jacket. Hakyeon might've said something, but it was something Taekwoon didn't hear. 

It wasn't until he was a good distance away before he touched the side of his neck, wincing a little at the hurt. He paused under a street lamp and lit a cigarette. The smoke curled up, illuminated grey, as Taekwoon dug his fingers into fresh bruises.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

"So this is where you were."

Taekwoon looked up as the door opened. It shut behind Hongbin as he walked down the few steps to join Taekwoon sitting on the bottom of the stairs. Taekwoon stubbed out his cigarette as Hongbin sat.

"I didn't realise there was a back door," Hongbin said. He looked around at a scenery that was familiar to Taekwoon. A small space, walled off, that would've otherwise opened up into a small alley. He didn't know if the company had gotten it walled off, or if it'd been like that since before. A few scraggly weeds grew in the cracks but it was otherwise a space dominated by brick and concrete and a small pile of cigarette stubs that Taekwoon had always meant to clean up.

"And here I thought you always disappeared to coffee shops."

Taekwoon shook his head. "Usually," he said. 

Hongbin glanced at him. "Is that where you've been lately?" he asked. Taekwoon shook his head again. Without a cigarette in his hand, Taekwoon felt uneasy in this small space, afloat. He wrapped his arms about his knees, digging his fingers into the fabric of his jeans.

"Home," he said. He paused. "I bought a new pour-over kettle," he said. "And an espresso machine. It has a new steam wand."

"So you've been busy," Hongbin said. Taekwoon nodded. "How're the cats?"

"Happy," Taekwoon said after a moment. "They like the heater you got last year."

"That's good," Hongbin said. He glanced at Taekwoon again, this time, his gaze lingering. Taekwoon kept his eyes turned stubbornly away.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt if you showed up here more often. Or down where the rest of the guys are. Sometimes it feels like I’m the boss here, not you.”

Taekwoon shrugged, picking at a small sprout of green that was by his feet. “They don’t need me,” he said. “They just need to turn in the money.”

“You’re not afraid they’ll do something?” Hongbin asked.

“Someone tried before. Once.” The corner of Taekwoon’s mouth curled drily at the memory. “Besides, I haven’t delivered drugs since I was sixteen. Since they decided there were better things they could use me for.”

Hongbin’s gaze fell heavier on him, and Taekwoon kept his eyes fixed on the ground.

"What's that?" Hongbin frowned as he caught sight of a familiar looking envelope on the step between them. Before Taekwoon thought to stop him Hongbin had picked it up. Taekwoon made half heartedly to take it back, but couldn't give enough of a damn to, just watched as Hongbin opened it, pulling out the sheet of paper inside. Taekwoon had already memorised it, burned holes into the paper with his eyes, the picture, the name, the address, the instructions. Hongbin whistled as he scanned it. "The Director has a flair for the dramatic," he said.

Taekwoon nodded, plucking it out of Hongbin's hands. He read it over again and then folded it, putting it back into the envelope. Taekwoon took out his lighter and watched as the flame consumed the envelope, corner curling black, until he dropped it, a pile of ash that would be blown away by the wind, or washed away by the rain.

"Do you always do that?" Hongbin asked. "What if you forget the information?"

"I do it after," Taekwoon said. 

"But not this time?"

"Maybe I just won't do it," Taekwoon said.

"It's the last?" Hongbin asked. Taekwoon nodded. He knew what Hongbin meant. Hongbin sighed and then rested his elbows against his knees, leaning forward slightly. "Just do it."

"I don't want to," Taekwoon said.

"Then what are you going to do?"

Taekwoon shrugged. "Run away," he said and then he sighed, a deep exhale. Taekwoon leaned back, elbows resting on the step above, staring up at the crisp autumn sky. There were no clouds, just the pale blue of morning.

"I wouldn't stop you," Hongbin said quietly.

Taekwoon laughed, soft, then shook his head. "Tonight," he said. He paused and shook his head again. "No, tomorrow. I have to do something first."

"Hyung? Don't you usually need time—"

"I don't want it," Taekwoon said. He laughed again, this time, the sound harsh. "Not this time."

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

It was almost familiar, the way they were almost pressed up against each other at the bar. The music was different, someone else in charge of the playlist from the first time they'd been here. Taekwoon had ordered a gin and tonic, and Hakyeon was sipping at a mojito. Their knees brushed, and it would have been a comfortable motion had Taekwoon not pulled away.

"No," Taekwoon had said earlier. Hakyeon had placed his hand on Taekwoon's thigh, and Taekwoon had pushed him off. "I...I just want to talk."

He'd said that, but they had yet to. Hakyeon had been silent as well, his fingers tracing the edge of the coaster, his eyes flickering towards Taekwoon every now and then.

"Hakyeon." His voice was shaky to his own ears, although it was barely noticeable beneath the music.

"Mm?"

"What do you think will happen?" Taekwoon said. He immediately shook his head—the words didn't sound right. "What do you think the future will be like?"

"The future?" Hakyeon asked. He frowned and pursed his lips as he thought.

"Is it bleak?"

Hakyeon laughed at the unexpected word, face expressing wry amusement. "Why would it be?"

Taekwoon shook his head. "Mine feels..." He sighed, running his finger around the lip of the cup. "I'm sorry."

Genuine confusion filled Hakyeon's expression. "What for?" he asked.

_Everything_ , Taekwoon thought. His lips twisted in dry amusement, but he quickly schooled his expression into neutrality again. "Let's stop," he said.

He could feel Hakyeon's gaze heavy on him, even as Taekwoon continued to stare forward. There was a sudden sense of coolness that fell between them—or that was what it seemed like to Taekwoon. But Hakyeon's look was more one of surprise, not an unexpected surprise, given Taekwoon's words, given the last time they'd seen each other, a few days ago. 

"Did...something happen?"

Taekwoon shook his head, an impulse, but then he laughed, Yixing's voice echoing in his head. 

"I lost someone," he said. The words seemed to come from somewhere else, someone else, simply borrowing his vocal chords, his lips, his teeth, his tongue to form the sounds. It was a heavy admission, and his voice fell, dropped away, sank beneath the beat of the music.

The words sat there, untouched, melting into the wood of the bar, disappearing like the pooled condensation, slowly evaporating. Hakyeon was waiting, waiting for Taekwoon to finish, but Taekwoon didn't know how to finish.

"Just...just for now," Taekwoon said. Lied. "We can still be..." He swallowed, unable to bring himself to say the word. Perhaps because the word was a lie—perhaps because it was a word so rarely used.

He pushed back the chair, left enough bills on the table, grabbed his jacket.

"I'm sorry," he said. Once again, he heard Hakyeon's voice. Once again, he didn't hear what he said.

  

  

  

  

  

  

↛↚

  

  

  

  

  

  

There were always other ways, and Taekwoon made do with them. The apartment was dark, the room was dark, and as he stood over the woman sleeping in the bed, he briefly thought of just turning around and disappearing into that darkness.

But the choice was made for him when the woman stirred, her eyes opened—Taekwoon shoved a hand over her mouth. Panic filled her eyes as she pulled away, thrashing instinctively. Then, strangely, fell still. She gestured, and Taekwoon frowned as he tried to piece them together.

"You're not going to scream?" he said. She nodded. Taekwoon hesitated and then removed his hand, wiping it on his shirt.

The woman sat up, her eyes staring at him curiously. "You're here to kill me?" Taekwoon frowned, but nodded slowly. There was something resigned in her expression, a shrug, a nod. "Jeon Seungho sent you?"

"What?" 

This seemed to take her by surprise. Taekwoon watched her with no small amount of curiosity. It was dark, but there was enough light to see surprise change to confusion to contemplation and then, again, curiosity. She smiled, wry. "It wouldn't happen to be his brother, would it be?"

"What—how did you..."

She laughed. "I guessed," she said, and for a moment, Taekwoon felt an echo of the past. 

"Revenge is best served cold, I suppose," she said. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Do you mind if I turn on the light?" she asked.

Taekwoon shook his head, and then realised she might not be able to see it. "I don't mind," he said. She nodded—Taekwoon closed his eyes instinctively as she reached for the bedside lamp, waiting for the initial flash of brightness to die down before he opened them again.

"Hmm. Your face doesn't really match your voice," she said.

Taekwoon blinked. Lee Eunkyung looked older than she did in the picture he'd been given, and different in a way that took Taekwoon a moment to place. She wasn't wearing make-up, he realised, and she must've been older. He knew the picture had been old. He'd thought she'd be in her late twenties, maybe about his age, but like this, he judged her to be more in her late, mid thirties at least. She looked tired, but whether it was because it was the dead of night or because there was someone in front of her who was there to kill her, Taekwoon didn't know.

"You're not scared?" he asked.

She laughed. "I'm terrified," she said. "But there's no point screaming, is there? You'd just kill me anyway."

"But then someone might come," Taekwoon said.

"You're doing me a favour anyway," she said, and then paused. The smile wasn't quite bitter, wasn't quite melancholy, but was still far from joy. "Although," she said, her voice dropping, "I should care more about bringing you to justice, I suppose."

"What do you mean?"

"That's the second time you've asked that," she said.

Taekwoon frowned, thinking back through the past surreal moments. "Revenge," he finally said.

"Bingo," Eunkyung said.

"I thought Director Jeon just hated his brother," Taekwoon said.

"Oh, he does," Eunkyung said. "With good reason. Jeon Seungho-ssi killed your Director Jeon's childhood sweetheart and then passed it off as an accident. I thought he'd found out a few years ago, but when nothing happened, I thought he didn't. Looks like I was wrong."

It took several long moments of silence for Taekwoon to digest the information, as brief and factual as it was. "How do you know this?" he finally asked.

"Well," Eunkyung said, "why do you think Jeon Seungho might want me dead?"

"He does?"

Eunkyung laughed harshly. "You forget that's the whole point of this," she said. "It's the obvious answer—I thought it was him too."

Taekwoon felt like he was being spoken circles around, like he'd been dropped into the middle of a class he knew nothing of, a discussion about a book he hadn't read. He bit at his lip, fixing her with a hard stare. She seemed to shiver before looking away.

"I used to work for him, Jeon Seungho, that is, until we had a...personal disagreement, and he fired me. I might've known a little too much for him to be comfortable." She paused. "If he ever found out I'm the one who told Director Jeon about her...I should've guessed it'd come back to me like this."

"An unfair reward," Taekwoon said, slowly understanding.

She smiled at him, nodding. "Reward...is a good way to put it," she said. She rolled back her shoulders, and made to get off the bed. Taekwoon jerked, but she just laughed at him. "You don't mind if I get dressed, do you?"

"I..."

"You can't watch," she warned. "I won't do anything strange. I'd just rather die wearing something decent, instead of a nightshirt. Although, will blood get on it?" Eunkyung pursed her lips as she looked at Taekwoon.

"Why are you so calm?" Taekwoon asked.

Eunkyung laughed softly. She stood, the bed creaking, walking past Taekwoon to the closet. She was a full head shorter than him.

"I did say you were doing me a favour of sorts," she said. Taekwoon turned, watched as she pulled out one shirt, and then another. "I haven't wanted to live for a long time."

"You want to die," he said.

"I guess," she said. She finally settled on a dark red blouse. She looked over her shoulder, evenly matching Taekwoon's eyes. "Turn around, I need to change."

Taekwoon's lips quirked with amusement but he did as she asked. "It's funny," he said. "I'm supposed to make it look like you wanted to die, and you just said, you want to die."

"That so?" Her words were muffled by what must've been her pulling her shirt over her head. Taekwoon stood with his back turned to her, as he looked out the window. "What was the plan?"

Taekwoon hesitated, biting at the inside of his lip. Telling Hongbin after the fact had been one thing. Telling the victim before the fact was another. But: _since when have you ever cared?_ "Kill you, first," he said. "Head trauma. Throw your body out the window. Leave a suicide note."

"Classic," she said. "Alright, you can turn around now."

She was wearing the red blouse and a black skirt; she patted the bed as she sat back down on the edge of it. "You loom," she said. Taekwoon hesitated for a moment before he did as she asked.

"You're going to die," he said softly.

"I know," she said. "Why? Is there something I can do about it?"

Taekwoon shook his head and she shrugged.

"We all die in the end," she said.

A sudden thought came to Taekwoon. "Do you smoke?" Taekwoon asked. She looked at him in surprise.

"No, why?" she asked. Taekwoon shook his head, a never mind. She chuckled. "I did try, once, but I wasn't very good at it. Oh, I see. It's fitting. You smoke, don't you?"

Taekwoon nodded, curious at her string of words. She was smart, he realised. Much smarter than he was. Eunkyung smiled at him, then held out her hand. 

"You were going to offer, weren't you?"

It took Taekwoon a moment, and by the time he realised what she meant, it was too late for him to realise that he hadn't meant to offer. He did, anyway, and handed her his lighter as well. Taekwoon watched as she held up the two objects up and stared at them curiously before she shrugged. For someone who'd said she didn't smoke, the motions seemed to come naturally to her—although the immediate cough rather gave her away.

Taekwoon reached for her in alarm but she quickly waved him away. "It's alright," she said, once she'd stopped coughing. She made a face. "I always did hate the smell of smoke."

"I used to, too," Taekwoon said.

"Something you get used to?" she asked. She stared at the lit cigarette, as if wondering what to do with it. Taekwoon watched as she stood, followed her with his eyes as she moved to the dimly lit kitchen area. She returned with a small dish, shrugging when she met his eyes. "I don't want to get the floor dirty," she said.

Her second attempt was better, and she seemed to relax into it. 

"You're not going to?" she asked him. Taekwoon paused for a moment then shook his head. 

"It's strange," she said. "That this is how I'm going to die."

"Why?"

"Well, most people don't think they're going to be murdered," she said, shooting him a wry look of amusement. Taekwoon had the decency to look away, but she just laughed. "It's better to say that I gave up on dying."

"I don't understand," Taekwoon said. 

Eunkyung didn't reply, not right away. She stared at the lit end of the cigarette, seemingly lost in the faint, barely visible glow. 

"I couldn't justify it," she said eventually. "I went to the school roof and everything, like they do in the movies. Several times, actually. But each time, I thought about my parents, my grandparents... I thought I was being selfish."

"Humans are selfish," Taekwoon said. The echo of her words ought to have been strange, but in this strange scene, they only seemed to fit better.

She nodded. "We are," she said. "But I couldn't justify it."

"You thought...they were more important?" Taekwoon asked. He frowned, trying to turn the words around, turn the conversation around, turn the questions around. _Am I worth it?_ he seemed to hear.

"I suppose," she said. She chuckled, shaking her head as she shook the ash off her cigarette into the dish. "Look at me, talking about these things for the first time with my will-be murderer."

"If you couldn't then..."

"Why am I alright with it now?" Eunkyung finished for him. She shrugged. "Maybe because I'm a coward. This way, I can tell myself I had no choice, and still get what I want. Didn't you say, humans are selfish." She chuckled softly to herself. "What a strange way to put it."

“Why don’t you want to live?” Taekwoon asked.

Eunkyung gave him a half-hearted smile. “Don’t you find it tiring? Fighting for something that will disappear anyway?”

The cigarette had burnt mostly out. The woman raised it to her lips for one last pull but seemed to think better of it, grinding it out in the dish instead. Smoke curled up for one brief instant, before all that was left was the distinctive smell.

She sighed heavily. Stared down at her hands. Minutes passed in silence, Taekwoon letting her be. He ought to do something, ought to finish this, but he couldn't find the urgency in himself to do it.

Finally, she stood. The dish went on the bedside table with a click.

"I need to write a note of sorts, don't I," she said. He couldn't see her face, and she couldn't see his nod. It didn't matter, because she walked past Taekwoon, to the desk. She pulled out a sheet of paper, a pen.

Taekwoon turned to watch her, but she was still, pen poised above the paper.

"Tell me what to write," she finally said. "It's still murder."

Taekwoon swallowed, nodded. He hadn't thought about this. Had been putting it off. Had thought that when the time had come, something would come to him. But the time had come, and nothing had. He sighed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Good bye."

"That's it?" She turned, and there was an incredulous look on her face, maybe a half smile. Her eyes were damp, and Taekwoon nodded once, sharp. "Good as anything, I suppose," she said. She turned towards the paper, and noted a few quick strokes. She nodded, as if satisfied.

Taekwoon took it as his cue. He strode to the window, quickly removing the frame. She watched him, statue like, and the gaze was unnerving. It took a minute or so and when he stepped back, she had yet to move.

"You'll have to kill me," she said. Her words were calm, but there was a tremble in her voice. She laughed shakily, noticing it herself. "The cigarette didn't help as much as I thought it would."

"You didn't smoke very much of it," Taekwoon said.

She didn't resist as he hauled her to her feet, or as he picked her up. She was small, light—it wasn't until he looked down, seeing her body on the concrete, did he notice the long scratches down his arms where she'd desperately tried to hang on in those last moments. Maybe all humans wanted was to live after all.

He left as quietly as he'd come, knowing the sirens would arrive soon enough. Yet he still lingered, a building away. He dug his lighter and carton of cigarettes out of his pocket, remembering how they had looked like in her hand. He lit one, the motion rote, the routine familiar.

"That question you asked—I have an answer for you." They'd been standing outside of Yixing's building, that night. Yixing had spoken deliberately, words rounded, phrases clipped.

Taekwoon tilted his head, frowned, then nodded.

"Possibilities." Yixing said the word as if he were breathing, as if it were an exhale in itself. Taekwoon opened his mouth to ask him to elaborate but then stopped, waited, watching the flickering movements in Yixing's face.

“Murder... Killing someone... It’s taking away their possibilities. Everything they could’ve done, everything they might’ve done—those are now the responsibility of the person who killed them.” Yixing shoved his hands in his pockets, gazing down the street, away from Taekwoon. The faint shadow of the moon painted only the dimmest silver along the pavement, full and round though it was. Yixing’s head tilted back, upwards, as his eyes sought it through the thin curtain of clouds. “And it’s a very heavy burden. It’s too heavy for anyone to carry. Lives have infinite possibilities.”

“But if they wanted to die, if they wanted to lose those possibilities?”

“Then you’re taking away the possibilities for the people beside them.” Yixing had looked at Taekwoon then, lips skewed in a strange smile. “The possibility of all the things we could’ve done together.”

Taekwoon took one last drag of his cigarette before he ground it out, but smoke still drifted up for a few seconds before it truly extinguished.

He fished out his phone, unlocking the screen. He dialed a number, one of the few numbers he ever did.

"I think I'll need that ride," he said, after Hongbin picked up on the third ring.

There was a moment of silence from Hongbin's end, a silence laid over unfamiliar voices. "Sure," Hongbin said, and then paused. "Hey hyung, how about you come over tonight? Chansik's having some friends over—I know you don't like people, but..."

Taekwoon laughed softly at Hongbin's words. "You only live once," he murmured softly, thinking of Wonsik.

"Hyung?"

"Alright," Taekwoon said. "Come get me. I'll come."

  

end.

⇝(true end.)  


  


  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

 

Hakyeon was waiting for him.

It had been a warm day for November and the warmth still lingered in the late afternoon, even as the sun was about ready to slip away. It cast its shadow against Hakyeon, his profile drawn out long against the pavement outside of the coffee shop. 

“My birthday was two days ago,” Taekwoon said. He slid into the seat across from Hakyeon, offering him a small smile.

“Ah, well. I’m a bit late.” Hakyeon attemped a laugh. “Took too long to get you something.”

Hakyeon’s hands rested on the table in front of him, his fingers caught between. There was nothing in his expression that might suggest what he’d texted Taekwoon for, something about a happy birthday. Taekwoon couldn’t help the small puff of laughter.

“You don’t need to pretend,” Taekwoon said.

“You know,” Hakyeon said. His voice was quiet, carefully flat.

Taekwoon nodded towards where a young man was seated at a table nearby. “Your backup looked at me,” he said.

Hakyeon sighed. “Of course it was Sanghyuk,” he said.

“You didn’t look too happy to see me either,” Taekwoon said. “Should I have not come?”

“I’m arresting you,” Hakyeon said.

“I know.”

A strange expression crossed Hakyeon’s face, as somber as his expression was. Taekwoon met his eyes evenly, even as he ached to look away. It was Hakyeon who broke the contact.

“You were ordered to,” Hakyeon said. “I know that. But…”

“I killed them,” Taekwoon said. He said this matter of factly, and as much as he understood Hakyeon’s words, a hint of curiosity still made its way into his tone.

“But—”

“I killed them, Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said. “Congratulations. Case solved.”

“Why?” Hakyeon said, and his face was so hopelessly earnest and shattered that Taekwoon nearly wanted to laugh.

“You should know by now,” Taekwoon said softly. “The world isn’t so black and white.” He blew out a quiet breath of air, eyes never leaving Hakyeon’s. His lips formed a small smile, if it could be called that, sardonic self-deprecation curling at the corners. “The world’s not such a pretty place.”

“Taekwoon—”

“We were sixteen.” Taekwoon swallowed. His eyes flickered aside, before he forced them to meet Hakyeon’s again. Hakyeon—lost, angry, horrified. Taekwoon wasn’t sure. “Bae Minkyu. Severe internal bleeding. Fatal neck injury. Twenty three.”

Taekwoon looked away, unable to watch the way a myriad of emotions expressed themselves on the police officer’s face. He reached instead into his pocket for his cigarettes—he fumbled, lighter falling to the floor with a clatter. Taekwoon picked it up, willing his hands steady.

“Kang Jihoon. Stabbed.” Taekwoon sat up, lit his cigarette. “Forty seven.”

“Why?” Hakyeon asked again, as if all else had been taken from him, as if it was the only thing he could cling to.

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” Taekwoon said. “Bae Minkyu. But I did. Kang Jihoon—someone told me to, so I killed him.”

“Why are you telling me?” Hakyeon’s voice was barely audible, strained. 

“Because you still think it wasn’t me,” Taekwoon said softly. “That it wasn’t my choice.”

“Taek—”

“2006: Hwang Sanghoon. Han Minyoung. Lee Jaesuk. Lee Dongil. 2007: Kim Minchul, Seon Hojun. Jang Youngjin.” Taekwoon paused, taking a deep drag of the cigarette. “It got too hard to remember, after that.”

“How many?” Hakyeon asked.

Taekwoon shrugged, playing with the cigarette between his fingers. “Lee Eunkyung. Kang Hyunwoo. Lee Taesuk. Kim Jihong. Park Sungmo. Kim Yoojung. Park Soohyun.” Names, flashes of faces. “I think I missed one,” he said.

Hakyeon was staring at him with a look that Taekwoon couldn’t read—that Taekwoon didn’t want to read, that Taekwoon feigned ignorance over. 

“Jang Yeseong?” Hakyeon asked shakily.

Something jagged stabbed through Taekwoon’s throat, lodging into his chest. He shook his head. “Yixing…was my friend,” he said.

“Then what am I to you?”

The question caught Taekwoon off guard. He looked up sharply, but Hakyeon’s face was strangely blank, his eyes strangely unreadable.

“You were too,” Taekwoon said. “But we were always too different.”

Hakyeon let out a choked laugh. “You did say that,” he said. His eyes sought out Taekwoon’s, but they flitted away, skimmed down to Taekwoon’s fingers. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“You didn’t?”

“You…sometimes smelled like it,” Hakyeon said. He shook his head, swallowed again, cleared his throat. “You…why? Why did you…Even if someone…”

“I don’t know,” Taekwoon said softly. “I guess it was me or them, and I always chose me.”

“Then why aren’t you running now?”

Taekwoon shrugged. “I guess I realised I’m not worth it,” he said. He’d barely smoked it, yet the cigarette had already burnt down most of the way. He brought it halfway to his lips and then paused. He ground it out instead.

Lingering wisps of smoke curled up between them, and it was through the faint haze that Taekwoon met Hakyeon’s eyes. It was Hakyeon who looked away first.

“I’m sorry,” Taekwoon said. There wasn’t much else to say.

The only reply was the cold click of metal, and the lingering warmth of Hakyeon’s touch, seared into his skin.  


  

  

  

  

  

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  notes:  
> \- lines/quotes have been used from wild adapter, norwegian wood, and grasshopper. the title is from nell's fisheye lens.  
> \- half a jar of instant coffee, half a jar of hot chocolate mix, quarter jar of apple cider mix, two hours of audio notes, party size bag of cheese puffs, too much alcohol, too many cans of monster. one day i'll learn time management, but that day was not this fic. also, i never want to hear separation anxiety again.  
> \- the two people yixing refers to are the two older two of the former exo-m members  
>  
> 
>   
> thank you first and foremost to my team (unofficially rechristened team in sickness and health) and to the infiction mods for organising this event and being so accommodating—this is a fic i would never in my life have otherwise written and made me push my boundaries. (although it didn't quite end up being proper leobin...) despite this fic driving me insane, it has also been my life-ring of sanity over the past few months, and so, i deeply thank my team members for putting up with my overbearing obsession, my flaky ass, and how horribly out of control the story grew.
> 
> thank you to j mm and m jj for being my staunchest supporters during what has arguably been the most stressful period of my life, which happened to overlap with (and in many ways, influenced) the writing of this fic. thank you for the hand-holding, for the support, and for choosing to be with me despite the chaos of your own lives. on a similar note, thank you to my chingu (who will prob never read this lol) who has, for some inexplicable reason, remained by my side.
> 
> and most importantly: thank you to all my friends, who've taught me that no matter how much hurt can come from friendship, it is also my greatest strength, and has come to be my most treasured and valued thing. thank you for allowing me into your hearts, and thank you for caring for me even when i refused to be cared for. for showing me again and again that it's alright to let people in.
> 
> and thank you to those of you who have read this, and i apologise for any distress i may have caused. because i know i caused myself a lot of distress reading this :( and that i owe all three otps copious amounts of happy fic after this. my bad.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> \- a., out  
> 
> 
>    
> 


End file.
